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. He rose slowly and extended it. “You must remember,” she said, “that you yourself are responsible for your altered looks. Will you marry me?” Anna looked at him in blank amazement. ” “Oh, I’m not trying to help it,” said Ann Veronica.
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