“Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. And I've made up my mind that a husband ought to believe only half that he hears, and nothing that he sees. 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. She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers.
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