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. "Zounds! what's that!" he cried, as the noise of a scuffle was heard behind them. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. " "You, Miss Enschede?"—frankly astonished that one stranger should offer succour to another. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. "Nobody has so much cause for complaint as me," growled Austin.
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