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. ‘I ain’t done nothing wrong, I swear it. I will return to Manchester at once. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. Women! He is always chanting the praise of some discovery; sometimes it will be a native, often a white woman out of the stews. You will find the certificate in my pocket.
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