She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. Clearly dazed, he stared, whispering an oath. 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. Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk. “You shall,” she said.
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