PLANITI N

SOLID

8/8 PT Immediately after lunch I returned to the Luxembourg, and soon I saw
my friend giving his arm with old-world politeness to a tiny little old lady
in black, to whom I was introduced. It was La Castris, the famous
ballerina, toast of princes, favourite of the King, idol of all that courtly age,
which seems to have left behind a haunting perfume of gallantry in the
world.

We sat down on a bench; it was May. The scent of flowers was wafted
along the trim walks; the cheerful sunshine streamed through the leaves,
splashing us with pools of light. La Castris’ black dress seemed drenched
with liquid gold.

The ganden was deserted; the rumble of traffic could be heard in the
distance.

‘Could you explain to me’, I asked the old dancer, ‘what the Minuet
was like?’

He started. ‘The Minuet, Sir, is the queen of dances and the dance of
queens, if you understand me. Now that Kings are no more, the Minuet

SOLID

9/9 PT ^Immediately after lunch I returned to the Luxembourg, and soon
*1 saw my friend giving his arm with old-world politeness to a tiny
little old lady in black, to whom I was introduced. It was La
Castris, the famous ballerina, toast of princes, favourite of the
King, idol of all that courtly age, which seems to have left behind
a haunting perfume of gallantry in the world.

We sat down on a bench; it was May. The scent of flowers was
wafted along the trim walks; the cheerful sunshine streamed
through the leaves, splashing us with pools of light. La Castris’
black dress seemed drenched with liquid gold.

The garden was deserted; the rumble of traffic could be heard
in the distance.

‘Could you explain to me’, I asked the old dancer, ‘what the
Minuet was like?’

2PT LEADED

8/10 PT Immediately after lunch I returned to the Luxembourg, and soon I saw
my friend giving his arm with old-world politeness to a tiny little old lady
in black, to whom I was introduced. It was La Castris, the famous
ballerina, toast of princes, favourite of the King, idol of all that courtly age,
which seems to have left behind a haunting perfume of gallantry in the
world.

We sat down on a bench; it was May. The scent of flowers was wafted
along the trim walks; the cheerful sunshine streamed through the leaves,
splashing us with pools of light. La Castris’ black dress seemed drenched
with liquid gold.

The garden was deserted; the rumble of traffic could be heard in the
distance.

‘Could you explain to me’, I asked the old dancer, ‘what the Minuet
was like?’

2PT LEADED

9/11 PT Immediately after lunch I returned to the Luxembourg, and soon
I saw my friend giving his arm with old-world politeness to a tiny
little old lady in black, to whom I was introduced. It was La
Castris, the famous ballerina, toast of princes, favourite of the
King, idol of all that courtly age, which seems to have left behind
a haunting perfume of gallantry in the world.

We sat down on a bench; it was May The scent of flowers was
wafted along the trim walks; the cheerful sunshine streamed
through the leaves, splashing us with pools of light. La Castris’
black dress seemed drenched with liquid gold.

The garden was deserted; the rumble of traffic could be heard
in the distance.

4PT LEADED

8/12 PT Immediately after lunch I returned to the Luxembourg, and soon I saw
my friend giving his arm with old-world politeness to a tiny little old lady
in black, to whom I was introduced. It was La Castris, the famous
ballerina, toast of princes, favourite of the King, idol of all that courtly age,
which seems to have left behind a haunting perfume of gallantry in the
world.

We sat down on a bench; it was May. The scent of flowers was wafted
along the trim walks; the cheerful sunshine streamed through the leaves,
splashing us with pools of light. La Castris’ black dress seemed drenched
with liquid gold.

The garden was deserted; the rumble of traffic could be heard in the
distance.

4PT LEADED

9/13 PT Immediately after lunch I returned to the Luxembourg, and soon
I saw my friend giving his arm with old-world politeness to a tiny
little old lady in black, to whom I was introduced. It was La
Castris, the famous ballerina, toast of princes, favourite of the
King, idol of all that courtly age, which seems to have left behind
a haunting perfume of gallantry in the world.

We sat down on a bench; it was May. The scent of flowers was
wafted along the trim walks; the cheerful sunshine streamed
through the leaves, splashing us with pools of light. La Castris’
black dress seemed drenched with liquid gold.

The garden was deserted; the rumble of traffic could be heard

4PT LEADED. CONDENSED TO THE CHARACTER WIDTH OF 7PT

8/12 PT Immediately after lunch I returned to the Luxembourg, and soon I saw my friend
giving his arm with old-world politeness to a tiny little old lady in black, to whom I
was introduced. It was La Castris, the famous ballerina, toast of princes, favourite of
the King, idol of all that courtly age, which seems to have left behind a haunting
perfume of gallantry in the world.

We sat down on a bench; it was May. The scent of flowers was wafted along the
trim walks; the cheerful sunshine streamed through the leaves, splashing us with
pools of light. La Castris’ black dress seemed drenched with liquid gold.

The garden was deserted; the rumble of traffic could be heard in the distance.
‘Could you explain to me’, I asked the old dancer, ‘what the Minuet was like?’

He started. ‘The Minuet, Sir, is the queen of dances and the dance of queens, if
you understand me. Now that Kings are no more, the Minuet has disappeared.’

4PT LEADED, CONDENSED TO THE CHARACTER WIDTH OF 8PT

9/13 PT Immediately after lunch I returned to the Luxembourg, and soon I saw
my friend giving his arm with old-world politeness to a tiny little old lady
in black, to whom I was introduced. It was La Castris, the famous
ballerina, toast of princes, favourite of the King, idol of all that courtly age,
which seems to have left behind a haunting perfume of gallantry in the
world.

We sat down on a bench; it was May. The scent of flowers was wafted
along the trim walks; the cheerful sunshine streamed through the leaves,
splashing us with pools of light. La Castris’ black dress seemed drenched
with liquid gold.

The garden was deserted; the rumble of traffic could be heard in the

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