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with breathing as (faithfully) her lownecked dress a little topples and slightly expands

one square foot mired in silk wrinkling loth stocking begins queerly to do a few gestures to death, the silent shoulders are both slowly with pinkish ponderous arms bedecked whose white thick wrists deliver promptly to a deep lap enormous mindless hands. and no one knows what (i am sure of this) her blunt unslender, what her big unkeen

“Business is rotten” the face yawning said

what her mouth thinks of (if it were a kiss distinct entirely melting sinuous lean whereof this lady in some book had read

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