But this was a vicomte’s sister. Heaven will not permit the continuance of such wickedness as you practise. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. (“No, no. Then, quite insensibly, her queenliness had declined. But don’t run away with the idea that I’m hanging out for a wife at last, because I’m not. My agent is here, and he has brought his contract for me to sign. It was time to leave America.
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