As we turned the corner of the street, I noticed that the electric light was burning in this room. "With your friends, dear Mrs. Run along while I rig up and get the part in my hair straight. . “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. 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. She was fatigued physically and mentally, and neither mind nor body could rest. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. These things illuminated her situation extremely. “Very good,” he said. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps.
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