“Martin, you realize that I’m dating someone, don’t you?” She knew his reply before he uttered it. There was every indication that she fled the island in company with a dissolute rogue. “I suppose,” said her father, “I have read at least half the novels that have been at all successful during the last twenty years. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist.
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