Gynecocracy

CHAPTER 2

As I returned to my room for the purpose of substituting for my short, tight skirt (fitted for tennis but not for the dalliance of Mademoiselle's boudoir) a loose tea gown and high-heeled shoes, a rush of memories flooded my mind in an unaccountable fashion-memories of that evening, now some days past, when I saw the rich, full bosom of Beatrice, in her low-cut evening dress, hidden by an ugly oblong card suspended by a scarlet ribbon from her radiant neck on which was inscribed, in letters an inch long, the word PROSTITUTE

What thoughts, what notions and ideas, what immorality and profligacy, this single symbol-this single expression-on the swelling bosom of my future wife evoked!

"Oh, Beatrice!" Agnes had cried, clapping her hands, as Beatrice entered the brilliantly lighted drawing room before dinner. "What a-a-charming one-you are! If only I were a man!"

Beatrice's anger, rising at the first half of the sentence, was momentarily diverted by its close. She looked at me full and distinctly betrayed the fact her chief concern was as to how I should take her disgrace. Without being aware of it, I felt flattered.

And I suppose it was the sense conveyed by this assurance of her concern about me, lingering upon my mind, that caused me now to stand and think and wonder instead of hastening to Mademoiselle as I should have done.

Agnes, however, did not escape, for Beatrice, averting her eyes from me, and returning to her first impulse, walked up to her, her teeth clenched and her eyes flashing and hissing the words "You wretch!" gave her two sound boxes, one upon each ear, before Agnes could recover from her surprise at the storm she had raised.

I abandoned myself somewhat inopportunely and somewhat to my own surprise, to a resume in my thoughts of that delicious, eventful evening-delicious, principally, I verily believe, because Beatrice had to undergo then what she was so fond of inflicting. I delighted in the discomfiture and humiliation the proud beauty had suffered.

Agnes looked pretty and girlish in her elegant frock. At the blows she changed colour but appeared more disturbed at the threat with which Beatrice followed them up.

"There, you impudent baggage! Just you wait awhile and I will make you wear a card like this behind and before!"

Agnes dared not reply, but I could see her pretty bosom heave and grow crimson whilst a defiant glance shot from her eyes.

Maud was in the room and watched what went on with quiet amusement; but, as usual, was too careless, too serenely indifferent, to take any active part. She had looked up at Beatrice's entrance and at Agnes' remark, but then, with an impatient kick of her dress, and a disdainful pout, she continued her perusal of the novel she was reading while we waited for Mademoiselle and the gong.

The whole scene returned with surprising vividness to my mind though I was much puzzled why it should do so at that particular moment.

The current was, however, too powerful to resist, and as I stood before my glass, fondling my arms, admiring my breasts, noting my drooping eyelids and their long lashes (I had thrown off my gown) I was forced to abandon myself to it and I may as well relate my reminiscences in the order in which they most impressed me, which was at the time when I most cogitated upon them, although not the time of the actual occurrence of the events.

What then, to be honest, was the significance of that magnificent diamante bracelet, the gift of Lord Alfred Ridlington to me, worth several hundred pounds at least, which now adorned my dressing table and which I had more than once fully appreciated and admired when clasped upon my arm, and had made up my mind to wear that very evening although I felt very uncertain whether or not to tell Mademoiselle beforehand of the gift? One of the articles of her favourite code of love enjoined strict secrecy in love matters. Had it-disquieting hateful thought-been given to me as wages?

How I loathed the notion; and under its influence the red-gold and sparkling stones for a few seconds appeared to be a badge of servitude. Was I a prostitute?

After all, the gift was made to me in accordance with custom, for I was a girl and should have all the trouble of the baby.

How should I, and I looked at myself in the glass when asking the question, feel with a great card on these swelling breasts of mine with the word "prostitute" inscribed in enormous letters upon it?

Poor Beatrice! She had accused Maud of prostitution because she had bought me from Elise and had herself to suffer as though she were the criminal. How delicious to consider Beatrice in that light!

What a strange qualm, strange thrill, shot through me, as I recollected the exquisite happiness she would sell. Those soft, warm, yielding thighs opened wide to the shower of gold as were Danae's to her god! My imagination faithfully depicted the well-stockinged calves, the daintily perfumed underclothing, the glimpses of pink flesh, the alluring posture, as she reclined with outspread arms and inviting looks, the drooping lids, the languishing air. Verily, as Agnes said, she would have made a splendid one, hence no doubt the sting of the observation. What a scrutinizing piercing glance she had thrown at me, as Agnes had added, "how I wish I were a man." Did Beatrice after all know the secret and the truth? Was I a man and did she long for me?

I wondered what Mademoiselle would do, for what use could a prostitute be amongst women?

I had helped to dress Mademoiselle that evening and she had never looked more stately nor more queenly than when in the drawing room upon that occasion.

She, of course, noticed Beatrice directly, and looked at her with well-feigned surprise as she observed Beatrice's carnation hue and shamefaced appearance.

"Well, Miss," she exclaimed, "what is there about the word that so disturbs you? Pro, before and statuo, I place," mimicking Beatrice's tone; "if it were cunnus or pellex, or scrotum, or-or meretrix, did you not say?"

"Oh, Mademoiselle!"

"Perhaps you have been round to the OEdiles and announced your intention of joining the ranks of the pro-fessce, and this card announces-until a tailor has provided you with a toga."

"Oh, Mademoiselle! You know no free woman-"

"No free woman could become a harlot. True-but as you have carefully explained, it is not harlot or-or-or a worse name that you bear; it is only prostitute."

"It is too bad, it is too shameful," cried Beatrice, beside herself with anger, "to label me prostitute!" and she tore at the card. But before she could rid herself of it Mademoiselle stopped her. "I forbid you to take it off. I cannot suppose," with delicate scorn, "your excuses for the use of the word were insincere-so you will please keep it on. And who knows, after dinner we may find some one anxious to fill your lap with gold. Julia, for instance," added Mademoiselle. Then slyly to me, "Julia, what pocket money have you left?"

"Julia is a girl," retorted Beatrice scornfully; in her turn scanning Mademoiselle very closely.

"Julia is an hermaphrodite," replied Mademoiselle, calmly. "We shall see."

"Never!" shouted Beatrice, reddening to her forehead.

"Or if you do not think her sufficiently powerful, I dare say we can find someone else. There's the gong. Julia, take in Madam Beatrice. Maud, give me your arm-run along, Agnes."

During this passage of arms, we had stood open-eyed and open-mouthed, wondering what the end of it would be. Even the sedate Maud had relinquished her book and I would have given a great deal to learn what was passing in her little head.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" I cried, for my excitement had occasioned a growth, and I got myself unmercifully bitten. I blushed painfully; in fact the pain was so severe that I thought I should faint.

Mademoiselle stopped, really astonished.

"It is that wedding ring of his, hers I mean," said Maud.

"Oh! I had forgotten. There, Beatrice, already," observed Mademoiselle. "I fear his remaining guineas are in serious jeopardy."

"Julia," said Beatrice, in desperate tones, as she took my arm, "if you don't take care, if you don't look out, I–I-I will tear the thing off you."

"I really could not help it, Beatrice," I expostulated.

"You must help it," she replied, giving my arm a vicious pinch.

So we marched off to the dining room.

The maids who waited at table looked at Beatrice and looked very significantly at each other. They were too well trained to give any other sign but I am sure I heard tittering behind the screen, and the one who handed me my soup gave me an intelligent although almost imperceptible nudge.

There was Beatrice next me, that great card in her way, unable to lift her spoon to her mouth without sprinkling it, to such an extent did she tremble, to such unusual nervousness was she reduced; and all because there was that word upon it.

During the meal Beatrice was unusually silent, almost sullen. What she was thinking of I puzzled myself very much to imagine. I was too much occupied with my own thoughts to take much part in the conversation always dominated by Beatrice's flaring announcement; for whatever subject was broached it seemed to be very quickly exhausted and attention returned to the placard.

I noticed that Beatrice drank much more than she ate. Glass after glass of red wine disappeared, until, at length, I observed Mademoiselle noticing the frequency with which it was emptied and refilled.

In these matters we were always left to our own devices. Mademoiselle never condescended to interfere in them, although she was ready enough to amuse herself with the consequences of any indiscretion.

It soon became plain to me that a spirit of perversity had seized Beatrice and that she was resolved to do justice to the character which had been ascribed to her. She had been made to declare herself a prostitute; she intended, evidently, to fill the part.

I knew the quantity of wine she was imbibing would make her utterly reckless. She drank and drank and her air and demeanour soon gave her the appearance of being so.

Before dinner was over she sat bolt upright resting against the back of the chair, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wild, her hair slightly disarranged. The naughtiness of the word seemed to have entered into her; and her legs were well apart, her eyelids drooped, and her gestures were very free.

The two other girls looked very much astonished, Mademoiselle looked amused, and I was frightened. I did not want Beatrice to make an exhibition of herself and she was evidently on the high-road to it.

In my solicitude, without exactly intending it, I involuntarily took an opportunity of pushing her glass from her, when I thought no one but herself would observe me, by way of giving her a gentle hint.

"You little ass!" she at once exclaimed, looking angrily at me, and quite loud. "Are you going to spill it over me again? Do you want me to slap your face for you as I did the other day? Leave my glass alone!"

I gave up in despair. I felt quite sad at the failure of my well-meant interference, and rather small at the notion of having my face slapped by one who was herself evidently more in need of control than able to exercise it.

"Julia," said Mademoiselle, "take care! Beatrice, I expect, will slap you somewhere else next time."

"That I shall! I shall put him across my lap, and warm his other end!"

And she pushed her chair back and appeared ready there and then to execute her threat.

The result was that I had recourse to the anodyne myself; for Mademoiselle, noticing Beatrice's condition, merely smiled and bit her lip-that dangerous smile which I knew betokened mischief.

In the drawing room Beatrice sank into a low, easy chair with a review on her lap, which, for some ten minutes or so, she attempted to read. Maud and Agnes went to the piano and Mademoiselle made me sit on a stool at her knee and talk to her. Beatrice soon began to nod and Mademoiselle to tire of inaction.

"Julia, why, with that alluring, appetizing spectacle before you," asked Mademoiselle, slyly, and in a voice audible to me alone, "do you not forget your petticoats? Look at your cousin," she continued, half turning and motioning with her hand towards her; "what an attractive attitude! What do not those pretty ankles promise! Observe her air of perfect abandon, her lap gaping, her arms outstretched. Why do you not fly to her?"

Beatrice's pose was indeed all that Mademoiselle described it. Her shapely legs were stretched out and well apart, her skirts had travelled half way up to her knees, disclosing her close-fitting, open-work stockings and slender ankles. Her knees had fallen wide apart, her arms rested, one upon each of the arms of the wide dormeuse; her breasts, rich, full, and snowy white, rose and fell evenly, and with them the card bearing that dreadful name; her eyes were closed; her lips slightly open; a soft smile was upon her face and her cheeks were touched with a soft glow apparently borrowed from the scarlet ribbon round her neck.

She did indeed, as Mademoiselle said, look most attractive, most alluring, most appetizing. Her figure was most voluptuous and full of promise.

"How can I forget my petticoats?" at length I asked my governess, discontinuing my contemplation of Beatrice, and refusing to enter upon the dreams her beauty inspired.

"How can you?" rejoined Mademoiselle ironically. "Did you not forget them with me, with your mamma, with Maud?" and Mademoiselle looked down into my face, with a soft smile. 295

I at once felt my suspicions aroused and myself set upon the alert. This was some deep ruse of Mademoiselle's to entangle me and to discover the true state of things between Beatrice and myself. I had learnt enough of feminine nature to be well aware that, where such preference existed, it was impossible to withhold it from the apprehension of any feminine being. They inhale its existence with the air they breathe. It is an epidemic, and I thought the smile signified a soupcon of jealousy on Mademoiselle's part.

I have never understood, this being the fact and no hallucination of mine, the necessity of a lover's formal declaration of his passion unless it be that he must lay himself open to a breach of promise.

No woman could find that on intuitive perception. I felt that my situation was an extremely ticklish one. The real object Mademoiselle had in view was to discover who really was the possessor of my heart. She herself merely owned my body.

How I congratulated myself upon the avoidance of the snare. I rested my head against Mademoiselle's knee, and, with a wisdom in advance of my years, murmured as I did so, Hamlet's words to Ophelia: "Here is metal more attractive."

"That is all very fine, Julia, but what good are your petticoats to me?"

Mademoiselle positively blushed as she asked this.

"You made me wear them."

"Don't you want to eat between meals, Julia?"

"It's not fair to turn the tables upon me like this, Mademoiselle. I thought I was only-a-a-youth then."

"And now you find you are both that and a girl too-as Lord Alfred Ridlington will show you."

"Lord Alfred Ridlington! I thought you said Lady-"

"Oh, yes! That was before your adventure with Maud-you have been unsexed since, and I have invoked his aid instead of hers."

"Oh, Mademoiselle!" And I hid my face in my charming governess' draperie.

"Why, Julia, what has become of your aplomb? It is so long since you have been birched-by me at any rate-that I really think I must have recourse to those dainty twigs to enliven your wits. There is a lady asleep. That ring, I suppose, forbids your enjoying the privilege claimed by those who possess but one half of your dual nature. Come, I will remove it. Is a young lady to announce herself 'prostitute' in your presence for nothing?"

Mademoiselle made me stand up, and slipping her hand underneath my skirts, she removed the horrid implement.

She did not stop at that. She caught hold of Mons. Priapus and his purse and by her dexterous manipulation of both very soon evoked various inarticulate exclamations from my lips and an irresistible impulse to move myself to and fro in her hand.

"Now go to Beatrice," she ordered presently, "and do what you like, what you wish, or as much as you can-and if you want encouragement, let me tell you that if you don't forget your petticoats you will have good reason to remember a certain oak bench and my birch!"

For a minute I felt quite at a loss what to do. How much did Mademoiselle know? How was I to undertake such a task as she suggested with the girl I was engaged to? Should I blurt out the truth at once and say it was impossible with my future wife. And then there were Maud and Agnes. They might fly at me, Maud especially. And Agnes. I recollected that day in the wood, as no doubt did she. "Should he deal with our sister as with an harlot?" Beatrice had asked her and had made me teach her the exact meaning of the query.

"Go!" said Mademoiselle, and she stood up, pointing to Beatrice, and gave me a slap on the back below the waist just as though I were an infant in frocks.

I considered the subject no further. I felt compelled to obey, trusting to my usual good fortune for extrication from the mess. And notwithstanding Beatrice's threats, which I knew were perfectly sincere, notwithstanding all my apprehensions of the bondage I was perfectly certain was in store for me as her husband (apprehensions, I may observe, since fully realized), I was possessed by some strange infatuation for Beatrice which made me anxious above all things not to offend her.

What could give her greater offence than to violate her under cover of the card Mademoiselle forced her to wear?

Of course I felt naughty, but my passion was dominated by this reasoning.

"Oh, Mademoiselle!" I exclaimed. "You are punishing me, not Beatrice."

"Nonsense!" she answered. "I have not birched Beatrice. I shall birch you if you are such a recreant knight."

"It is immoral."

"Oh, no, Miss Julia! Love is not immoral. Perhaps, however, you do not care for your cousin."

"I–I-I think I care for her too much."

"And pray," instantly retorted Mademoiselle, "what then about your professions to myself?"

I was dumbfounded. I felt as though I had been struck.

In a dazed state I went without another word up to where Beatrice reclined and knelt down between her feet. I placed my arms round her and kissed her lips.

She murmured. I repeated the kisses. She opened her eyes in a dreamy way and looked at me.

"Oh, it is you, Julian!" she uttered, putting her arms about me, not sufficiently awake to know where she was. "I was dreaming. Dear boy, you may kiss me again! I suppose they have gone to bed. Where am I? What's this thing on my breast? Don't press it against me."

I kissed her again and she kissed me. I slipped my hand down underneath her dress, on to her knees, and let it glide higher up.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! You must-you must kiss me there!"

"Beatrice!" exclaimed Mademoiselle.

At the sound of her voice Beatrice started up and rubbed her eyes, leaving me still kneeling.

"Oh, I must have been dreaming!" she declared, flushing up to her eyes. "Julia, you wretch, how dared you take advantage of me?"

"Nice dreams for a young lady! Kiss me there!" went on Mademoiselle. "Where pray?"

"Oh, Mademoiselle!"

"And what about that card? Sit down again, Miss. Lift up your skirts to your waist-all of them. Statuo, 'I place,' Julia, pro, 'before.' "

"Why shouldn't I?" rejoined Beatrice. Desperately and with ravishing carelessness she obeyed Mademoiselle's injunction.

"There," exclaimed Mademoiselle. "Maud, Agnes, look at your sister. See how she absolutely gives herself up to the embraces of the first person who invites her. Wicked, abandoned girl. Go to my room instantly. And you, Julia, come with me. The heroine of the novel, a prostitute indeed! I suspected there was more than you wished me to suppose, Maud."

"Indeed, Mademoiselle," began Maud.

"Go to bed," interrupted Mademoiselle, "and you, Agnes, go too."

Beatrice, accustomed to the role of bete noire, went off without saying anything more. Maud and Agnes bade Mademoiselle good night and left me with her.

As soon as they had gone Mademoiselle turned to me with a certain amount of anger in her gesture.

"Have you ever kissed Beatrice like that before," she asked, scrutinizing me closely.

I at once remembered the night of the dance. I recollected the whipping I had from Agnes by Beatrice's orders for whipping Beatrice herself, my head under Beatrice's petticoats, I-

"No need to reply, I can see it in your face. And Agnes-"

"Yes," I replied, hanging my head.

"Maud of course, and myself, and Elise, and your mamma-every woman you meet in fact."

Now this seemed unfairly hard upon me. It was their doing more than mine.

"Go along," continued Mademoiselle, "to my room with me."

When we arrived Beatrice was standing by the fireplace.

Mademoiselle entered the room with an imperious sweep of her garments.

"Undress yourself at once and completely," she directed Beatrice.

Beatrice immediately commenced sobbing.

Mademoiselle opened a drawer and took out her jewelled whip.

At the sight of it, the culprit, without delay but not without protests, unloosened her bodice, her gown, her underclothing, petticoat after petticoat, her drawers, until at last she stood in her chemise.

"Take that off," ordered Mademoiselle.

With a deep blush of shame but no hesitation, Beatrice obeyed, thus saving her skin.

Mademoiselle laid down the whip.

I gazed at Beatrice. She was surpassingly lovely. Her confusion heightened her charms in a most remarkable degree. But pretty bashfulness and alarm like that of a graceful fawn were not her only characteristics as she stood there in her stockings and shoes but otherwise completely naked, a condition which the contrast of the stockings rendered more emphatic. 301

"Now, Julia," exclaimed Mademoiselle, "do not stand there as if you were moonstruck, gazing and gazing in that idiotic manner. Upon my word you will wear out my patience. Take off your cousin's stockings and then undress yourself."

The contact of my hands with Beatrice's soft warm full limbs which resembled the delicious plumpness of a scarcely ripe peach, communicated a strong fire to my veins and caused my brain to whirl. I was in a state of violent commotion and the tender glances which fell upon me from Beatrice's half-closed eyes, greatly increased my enthusiasm, making me fully aware of her own state. It was very evident that my execution of Mademoiselle's direction was very agreeable to Beatrice. She pressed her legs against me more than there was any occasion for; and it is these voluntary and gratuitous caresses which I have always found the most irresistible and intoxicating.

When her stockings we're off, Mademoiselle made Beatrice stand upon a low cane stool, which served as an admirable pedestal.

"Now, Julia," said Mademoiselle, from the chair where she reclined in easy comfort, "follow suit. You will then have an opportunity of comparing yourselves and of observing your points of difference. What a pity Maud is not here to model you both. By-the-bye, first hang that card again round Beatrice's neck!"

With a deep sigh and flush I slowly divested myself of my clothing and in a few moments stood before Beatrice and Mademoiselle absolutely naked, and feeling so guilty and ashamed that I covered my face with my hands. Beatrice's nakedness and Mademoiselle's full toilette, her low dress, accentuated my sense of my own state, and my consciousness of it, to a bewildering degree.

I am quite sure as I recall the scene that the whole spice of it lay in the difference of sex.

It was the sense of that difference which overwhelmed us both and so delighted Mademoiselle. With my feminine garments I felt I had put off all the nonsense about hermaphroditism-for nonsense I at that time felt it to be-though, now today, after my experience with Lord Alfred Ridlington, I stoutly denied to myself that it was nonsense; and as I now gazed at myself in the glass, and passed my hands over my body as I stood ready, in petticoat and body camisole, to do my tea gown, and proceed to Mademoiselle's boudoir, an indignant assertion of my hermaphroditic nature if not of absolute feminacy rose to my lips.

But to return to that evening.

When Mademoiselle had regarded us thoughtfully and amusedly with a somewhat triumphant air for several minutes, she bade me walk up to Beatrice and let her examine me.

Beatrice descended from her pedestal for the purpose and passed her hands over my plump body. I could not keep my hands off hers and we found ourselves locked in each other's arms.

Mademoiselle at length told Beatrice to lead me into the inner room where I had spent the three nights after my escapade with Maud.

There was a crimson silk coverlet over the bed and on it she made Beatrice recline. How lovely, how desirable, she looked!

"Now, Julia, kneel down. Beg for her embrace, ask her price. What do you value a night by her side at?"

"Beatrice," I said, in a trembling whisper, "may-may I spend the night with you here, in your arms, in bed with you?"

The last part of the suggestion appeared to me insulting.

Beatrice moved ravishingly. She had not the ordinary means of defence which women possess when clothed; and I could see how my question and the ardent longing expressed more by my eyes and looks than my words, agitated her form; and, to my great relief, under the influence of the rosy little god Bacchus or for some other reason, she entered into the joke.

"First," she said, "I must make the illusion complete."

And she threw away the card.

I am convinced of the rapacity of all women.

Beatrice did not scout the notion; on the contrary she took it most kindly.

"And what," she said, "are you willing to give me if I do?"

"Oh Beatrice!" I cried, hiding my face close to her lovely form, "all I have-love."

"Love!" she retorted, scornfully. "I can have love for the asking. I shall not give it for nothing."

"Quite right, Beatrice; make him pay," said Mademoiselle.

"Yes," Beatrice rejoined, "what will you pay?"

Mademoiselle laughed outright.

"Five-five-guineas," I stammered.

Beatrice's eyes brightened as an idea seemed to strike her.

"Very well," she answered, "give them to me and I will give you what you want all night long. And I shall take what I desire. Give them to me now."

I looked at Mademoiselle. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, nonsense!" exclaimed Beatrice. "You won't buy repentance at any price then. Now, before you feel you have any need of repentance-"

"Beatrice," I exclaimed, reproachfully.

"Oh, that's all very well. Five guineas, what are five guineas, five hundred thousand guineas?" and Beatrice looked significantly at me.

I understood. This damsel would want a fine settlement.

Mademoiselle laughed delightedly again.

"Your money is in a drawer of my escritoire, in the next room; the right-hand top one. Go and get your guineas."

I returned in a moment with them, and shamefacedly handed them to Beatrice.

She counted them singly and put them under her pillow, and then, throwing herself back, she opened her arms and said with a winning smile: "Come."

I sprang on to the bed and locked her in my embrace.

If the contact of her flesh which before I had touched only with my hands had set me on fire, I was now, as my body pressed against hers, ablaze with pleasure. I kissed her and she kissed me back. At last I made certain advances. What did I care for Mademoiselle's presence then!

To my astonishment Beatrice said: "No! I promised you what you desired, and I shall take what I want. Do you think that for five guineas you are to have what you seem on the point of taking?"

I knelt up, puzzled and disappointed.

Beatrice put her hands on my shoulders and pushed my head down to her middle, making me turn round as she did so. She caught my head with her thighs.

"There," she exclaimed, "that is what you want," as she rubbed herself against me, "and here," taking hold of Mons. Priapus who was now near her face, "is my toy. You shall sleep like that."

"It is not what I meant at all," I gasped.

"It is what I meant though," replied Beatrice, "and you shall stay so all night because I want this thing and will not be done out of him."

"Capital," exclaimed Mademoiselle. "Good night. Mind you keep to your bargain, Beatrice."

"I certainly shall," exclaimed Beatrice.

"There, Julia, you beast," she added as soon as Mademoiselle had gone, giving me a sound smack, and then another, and another, "there, I have outwitted her hand on you, and I have got you to myself anyhow. How could you consent to play such a part and with me too? You shall pay for it hereafter. Now kiss me at once! You know how. It is not the first time and I shall perhaps, just once, act Agnes' part with this thing."

She did so as I kissed her.

When we had rested she made me get underneath the bed clothes and dived into them herself, placing me in the same position again. What a night it was! I, as the hours-Hark! I hear Mademoiselle's voice; she is 306

wondering what I am dawdling over. I must be off, and with a sigh I broke off my broodings about that night, put on my most elegant tea gown in frantic haste and rushed off to her boudoir.