“You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments. " "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. Why in heaven’s name didn’t I think of that before?’ ‘What are you talking of?’ ‘Never mind that now.
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