At noon the doctor himself arrived. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. 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 spoke a thought aloud. "When you are stronger we'll go up to the cutwater and watch them from there. I shall never come back. "Do they treat you ill?" asked her son. Wait!" He released himself from his aunt's embrace, ran to the trunk and fetched the old coat.
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