Elinor Glyn (1864 – 1943)
Born Elinor Sutherland, was a British novelist, short-story writer and screenwriter.
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Would you please publish the enclosed manuscript or return it without delay, as I have other irons in the fire.
No matter what he does, one always forgives him. It does not depend upon looks, either – although this actual person is abominably good-looking – it does not depend upon intelligence or character or – anything – as you say, it is just "it".
And loveliest sight of all, in front of the fire, stretched at full length, was his tiger – and on him – also at full length – reclined the lady, garbed in some strange clinging garment of heavy purple crepe, its hem embroidered with gold, one white arm resting on the beast's head, her back supported by a pile of the velvet cushions, and a heap of rarely bound books at her side, while between her red lips was a rose not redder than they – an almost scarlet rose.
He had that nameless charm, with a strong magnetism which can only be called "It", and cats – as well as women – always knew when he came into the room.
To have "It", the fortunate possessor must have that strange magnetism which attracts both sexes. He or she must be entirely unselfconscious and full of self-confidence, indifferent to the effect he or she is producing, and uninfluenced by others. There must be physical attraction, but beauty is unnecessary.
A madness of tender caressing seized her. She purred as a tiger might have done, while she undulated like a snake.
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