62 <8> A FIRST DATE WITH JOHN DIEDERMAYER The weekend began for her with that luxury of all luxuries, sleep. Wait!" He released himself from his aunt's embrace, ran to the trunk and fetched the old coat. My wife—killed me. I wonder if some of them did—and it didn’t get reported. It would not have been for her an anomaly to read a love story in which there were no kisses. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. The marriage cannot—shall not be delayed. There isn’t. ” He said flaccidly. 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. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward.
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