Then he went on: “—and, indeed, to most of the established things in life is, frankly, unsatisfactory. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. To-night all London believes that he was your husband. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb.
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