Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. He was snoring stupidly. ‘Melusine!’ Distracted, Gosse blinked and his eyes flicked away from Melusine’s just as she flung the fullness of her gathered petticoats in the way of his blade. "As long as I live, I'll never forget that dress of hers," Prudence declared. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride. “I’ll buy a new one.
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