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They...would gather round her like courtiers,
bearing wispy frailties of Georgette crepe,
delicate chiffon to echo her cheeks in faint pastel,
milky lace to rest against her cheek in faint pastel...
She would go elsewhere after a while,
She would go elsewhere after a while,
tilting her head a hundred ways
under a hundred bonnets seeking in vain
for mock cherries to match her lips
or plumes that were graceful
as her own supple body.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
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