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. The condition of the rooms was indescribably filthy and disgusting; nor were the habits of the occupants much more cleanly. But when she spoke her lips quivered, and they came. You promise me you’ll never grow old, you hear?” “I promise. In response to an almost imperative gesture from the nurse, Anna laid her hand upon his.
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