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. ‘Parbleu, but what a person you make me! One who spies. Catch him, she begged silently. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response.
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