He donned his winter coat. "Then I presume you've not been arrested?" "I have not," answered Wood firmly. Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking. . . ” He threw his head back. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. That wrappered life, as you call it—we’ve burned the confounded rags! Danced out of it! We’re stark!” “Stark!” echoed Ann Veronica.
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