With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. “It’s very good,” she said. In the second, she was wretchedly poor, and assailed by temptations of which you can form no idea. That's the way she strikes me. “You must not think of me as one. " "There it is;" replied the other, tossing him the glove. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was.
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