“Miss Pellissier,” he said, “don’t!” “Why not?” she asked, smiling. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. ’ ‘For God’s sake,’ protested his junior. . " "You've been misinformed, Sir," interposed Smith. She no longer felt sick or dizzy, her muscles returned to a relaxed, supple state. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors.
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