I said to myself at once, ‘Either this is a coincidence or the caper sauce. “Good-looking rascal she met at Worthing. 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. ‘Parbleu,’ she uttered indignantly.
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