Laurette's skirts were short, her legs long, thin, and transparently covered.

Her fingers stroked her ankles.
"It's not exactly that I don't understand them," she was saying thoughtfully.

"I must go and try again." "What time will you be there ?" said Jacob.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"To-morrow ?" No, not to-morrow.
"This weather makes me long for the country," she said, looking over her shoulder at the back view of tall houses through the window.
"I wish you'd been with me on Saturday," said Jacob.
"I used to ride," she said.

She got up gracefully, calmly.

Jacob got up.
She smiled at him.