"What do you want to make a show of her for, Bruce?" she remonstrated feelingly. "You can say all you have to say right here, can't you?",
"Yes, you do, too!" cried Judith ardently, flinging out a masterpiece. "You sound like a syncopated opera; doesn't she, Bruce?",
In that—that—trousseau Madame Rene had made me there was one, what she called "simple" lingerie frock. And it looked just as simple as the cheque it called for. It was of lawn as transparent as a cobweb, real lace and tiny delicious incrustations of embroidery. It fitted in lines that melted into curves, had enticements in the shape of a long sash and a dazzling breast-knot of shimmery blue, the colour of my eyes, and I looked new-born in it..
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