You understand. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. Mr. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. 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. In no way could he be said to contribute to the gaiety of the little party.
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