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. ‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. It was a purse. " "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames. I wanted to have something to give up. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. Just. “I can survive on my own.
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