You knew me in Paris. I think a wife a needless incumbrance, and mean to die a bachelor. But her request was unheeded. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. The boy she had loved was gone. Ten days should see you on your feet.
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