The lowcut bodice enveloped her rounded shoulders with a smoothness born of art. Its edging of lace, wrought by the loom of her dextrous fingers, adorned in modesty the superb contour of her neck and bust.
‘Shhh,’ said Millat irritably. ‘Not everyone can know. If you want to get near the centre, you’ve got to keep shtoom.’
Did you ever try to dance while the disc jockey tried to beat mix for the first time? Ouch! See what happens when you don't know what you're doing?
At half-past nine on this Saturday evening the parlor of the Salutation Inn, High Holborn, contained most of its customary visitors.[…]In former days every tavern of repute kept such a room for the select circle—a club, or society, of habitués, who met every evening for a pipe and a cheerful glass.
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