‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. There, hanging among Ann Veronica’s more normal clothing, was a skimpy dress of red canvas, trimmed with cheap and tawdry braid, and short—it could hardly reach below the knee. Operations then commenced. "I must go. ” Ann Veronica was about to reply, when he went on, with a still more deadly quiet: “I am not here to bandy words with you.
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