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It was a girl in a red negligé, silk surely,
drying her hair by the still hot sun
of late afternoon.
His whistle died
upon the stiff air of the room;
he walked cautiously another step nearer
the window with a sudden impression
that she was beautiful.
Sitting on the stone parapet beside her
was a cushion the same color as her garment
and she was leaning both arms upon it
and she was leaning both arms upon it
as she looked down into the sunny areaway,
where Anthony could hear
where Anthony could hear
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