. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. Don't be frightened of her. ’ Roding started. 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.
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