What was the matter with the dress? She could not see. 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. And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. I know London better than you, and I have had to earn my own living. “What’s that young lady’s name—girl in dark brown, stranger here?” Mr. I spoke a thought aloud. All this while he was arranging the medicines on the stand and jotting down his instructions on a chart sheet.
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