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Updated: May 4, 2025
She wore a mauve negligee that was sheer and soft and flowing, and her burnt-gold hair was braided and wound around her head in a picturesque and becoming coiffure. As she turned the pages of the little book the Major noticed her hands. They were white and slender, and she wore only one ring a long amethyst set in silver. "Do you play?" he asked abruptly. "Yes. Why?" "Your hands show it."
He was successful in a commercial sense, but fame did not come to him. There was gray in his burnt-gold hair; his shoulders acquired a scholarly droop, and he wore glasses on a black ribbon. It was when he put on glasses that I began to feel a thousand years old. Yet always when he was away from me I thought of him as the Jimmie whose youth had shone with blinding radiance.
Yet I missed something in him the enthusiasm, the buoyancy, the almost breathless radiance with which he had rekindled our dying fires. Yet he looked young enough and happy enough as he sat at the table in his velvet studio coat, with his crisp, burnt-gold hair catching the light of the candles. He and his wife were a handsome pair. His manner to her was perfect.
Madge, sitting later next to Becky in the Admiral's big car, was lovely in a great cape of pale wisteria, with a turban of the same color set low on her burnt-gold hair. "I have brought you wonderful news of Randy Paine," she said to Becky. "He has sold his story, 'The Trumpeter Swan. To one of the big magazines. And they have asked for more. He is by way of being rather famous.
She wore a mauve negligee that was sheer and soft and flowing, and her burnt-gold hair was braided and wound around her head in a picturesque and becoming coiffure. As she turned the pages of the little book the Major noticed her hands. They were white and slender, and she wore only one ring a long amethyst set in silver. "Do you play?" he asked abruptly. "Yes. Why?" "Your hands show it."
Madge, sitting later next to Becky in the Admiral's big car, was lovely in a great cape of pale wisteria, with a turban of the same color set low on her burnt-gold hair. "I have brought you wonderful news of Randy Paine," she said to Becky. "He has sold his story, 'The Trumpeter Swan. To one of the big magazines. And they have asked for more. He is by way of being rather famous.
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