"And so I want the boy out of the way," he concluded. 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. ” “I have denied it,” she answered. The iron slipped from his face, leaving it blank with astonishment. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light.
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