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In your mind's eye you saw her, a stout, well-stayed figure in tight brassière and scant petticoat, bare-armed and bare-bosomed, in smart hat and veil, attired as though for the street from the neck up and for the bedroom from the shoulders down. The East-End set bought Sophy Decker's hats because they were modish and expensive hats.

"Take those off." As she unhooked her brassiere, Rhoda said, "My head aches." "Your head does not ache." "You are right, my head does not ache." She slipped out of the panties and stood naked. The android regarded her. "You are different." "Of course. I am a woman." "I want to make love." As Rhoda stood motionless, helpless, he spoke very positively. "You make love on the bed.

But most of all he hated the condescending tolerance; their everlasting attitude that everything he did was "cute" like the little girl who decked herself out in mother's clothing from high heels and brassiere to evening gown, costume jewelry, and a fumbled smear of makeup. That was over.

1 Dress, chine, crepe de, pink, for dancing. 1 Dress, chine, crepe de, pink, for petting. 1 Dress, Swiss, Dotted, blue, or 1 Dress, Swiss, undotted, white. 15 yards Tulle, best quality, pink. 4 bottles perfume, domestic, or 1 bottle, perfume, French. 12 Dozen Dorine, men's pocket size. 6 Soles, cami, assorted. 1 Brassiere, or riding habit. 100 boxes aspirin, for dances and house-parties. 1 wave, permanent, for conversation. 24 waves, temporary. 10,000 nets, hair. 100,000 pins, hair. 1 bottle Quelques Fleurs, for knockout.

And there emerged from the inner room a trim, lithe, almost boyishly slim figure attired in a bewitchingly skittish-looking garment consisting of knickerbockers and snug brassiere of king's blue satin messaline. Dainty black silk stockings and tiny buckled slippers set off the whole effect. "Miss La Noyes," said Emma McChesney, almost solemnly, "this is Mr. T. A. Buck, president of the firm.

Waiters, floor-walker at the Bagatelle, had fallen down the length of the narrow stairway leading from the cashier's cage. She became almost hysterical with glee as she pictured him lying prone beneath the counter dedicated to lingerie, draped with various garments from the pile that toppled over on him. "Ruby Nash picked a brassiere off his whiskers!" Lise shrieked.

Then he, the nude, dangled there staring at his stepson who sat on a limb in a tree that was a hundred yards from the house. The boy was holding a brassiere as his slingshot.

She wanted to resist but the fear of driving him away held her mute; that and something in his eyes that told of excitement, an unformed phantom of delight that had never materialized but still held sway over her through promise. He stripped the blouse off. She wore no brassiere underneath, and he regarded her breasts somberly.

Why did you strip me naked and look at me as though I were a statue? Will you come back again? Please come back and make love to me. She felt Frank Corson unsnapping her brassiere. She closed her eyes and lay back and waited, and for all the effect he had on her, Frank Corson could have been a statue. At the last moment she insisted, "Remember, Frank, you've got to find out everything!"

Observe the absence of unnecessary fulness about the hips, or at the knees. No wrinkles to show there. No man will ever appreciate the fine points of this little garment, but the women! To the left, Miss La Noyes. You'll see it fastens snug and trim with a tiny clasp just below the knees. This garment has the added attraction of being fastened to the upper garment, a tight satin brassiere.