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. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time. ‘She won’t. The rest she meant to keep for her immediate necessities. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. She looked at her flattened belly. ” She paused again.
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