His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. ’ Before the major could verify this, the lady reappeared. 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. She could neither speak nor move nor cry out. Sometimes I think you would have been much better off if you had been born in death-worshipping Egypt instead of in the Fourteenth Century.
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