The close-fitting round gown, if a little oldfashioned with its very narrow waist and wide skirts, was becoming on a full figure, and the low décolletage, unencumbered by any form of covering, exposed a good deal of bosom. They had a universe to talk about—two universes. "What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. “Don’t you understand? It is I whom you cared for in Paris, not Anna. The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat.
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