That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. ‘I do not command your services, mon major. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left the house without a smile upon her face.
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