"We're all damaged—we've all got broken pates," cried a dozen voices. 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. I've come all these miles for this young fellow; but I don't cotton to the idea of lallygagging four weeks in this burg. My poor Hoddy! I had to talk harshly, or break down and have hysterics.
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