There was a gentle rustling of skirts. . She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. It was red and chapped. During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. “You’ll do no such thing, Sheila. I gather you wish to go up in some fantastic get-up, wrapped about in your opera cloak, and that after the festivities you propose to stay with these friends of yours, and without any older people in your party, at an hotel.
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