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. " "You may spare me your compassion, friend," observed Thames; "I am falsely detained. But why do you ask?" "Because—" stammered the boy. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. " Emptiness; that was the doctor's initial sensation: his vitals had been whisked out of him and the earth from under his feet.
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