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. “I’ve got bad faults. ‘Do please continue,’ Gerald begged, deceptively docile. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. On the right were several mounted grenadiers: on the left, some half dozen javelin-men. "Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion.
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