As she breakfasted she scanned Mr. Wrenn for a second. He was
too obviously caught staring to be able to drop his eyes. She
studied him all out, with almost as much interest as a policeman
gives to a passing trolley-car, yawned delicately, and forgot him.
Though you should penetrate Greenland or talk anarchism to the
daughter of a millionaire grocer, never shall you feel a more
devouring chill than enveloped Mr. Wrenn as the new young lady
glanced away from him, paid her check, rose slithily from her
table, and departed. She rounded his table; not stalking out of
its way, as Theresa would have done, but bending from the hips.
Thus was it revealed to Mr. Wrenn that--
He was almost too horrified to put it into words.... He had
noticed that there was something kind of funny in regard to her
waist; he had had an impression of remarkably smooth waist
curves and an unjagged sweep of back. Now he saw that--It
was unheard of; not at all like Lee Theresa Zapp or ladies in
the Subway. For--the freak girl wasn't wearing corsets!
When she had passed him he again studied her back, swiftly and
covertly.
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