Stanley determined to improve the occasion. “We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes. “Oh, you can act!” she cried. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. With a little sigh of happiness she accepted this new thing.
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