
Am I not fortunate, dear Gussie, to have “Milor” and “Signore” as my two protectors and providers in this delightful resort? So I stood in the peach-yellow sunlight of the Italian afternoon and admired Mr. Bowler's summer premises. Behind the plate-glass windows, the waxy limbs of slim mannequins stood like the figures of an entablature, motionless in morning-gowns or driving-costumes, riding breeches and promenade-dresses, silken tea-gowns or evening satin worn tight and sleek over hips and seat. You may be sure it was not the wax slaves with their innocent eyes and parted lips which had drawn a group of well-dressed gentlemen to admire the display of fashion. Among their cold polished limbs stood another figure whose warm gold skin pulsed a little with the flow of blood and the tremor of passion. It was no other than Miss Jones! It is greatly to your disadvantage, Augustus, that you have never met Miss Jones. I assure you she would soon cure you of your pale mewling attachment to the little strumpet who has had the impudence to seduce your affections at present. They call her Carissima here. How shall I describe Miss Jones to you? She is a randy little wriggler of twenty years old or so. Her figure is neat and its golden skin gives her the look of a Mediterranean or perhaps Egyptian lineage.
