Sometimes, although it might be eleven in the morning, she wore evening dress; sometimes, although it might be August, she wore furs; often she wore suits and street dresses, but always it was possible to tell that she was not merely a customer, but a dream provided by the management.
Women who had rather more than Joyce Wentworth's figure, although not always so judiciously arranged, sometimes identified themselves with the dream and purchased the evening dresses, the furs, the coats and suits and street dresses, which she made resplendent. And often they wondered, afterward, what it was that had gone wrong between dream and realization.
(from Murder Within Murder, by Richard and Frances Lockridge)
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