In rushed Mr. “Goodnight. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. 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 had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently.
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