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. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. The eminent painter had handsome, expressive features, an aquiline nose, and a good deal of dignity in his manner. He might miss at this distance. “You were booked of course.
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