Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. 54 \"Yes?\" \"No one says 'Oh my word' anymore. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. I love your very breath.
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