“You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. Sc. . . 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. " "Oh! how much I owe him!" said the widow, with fervour, "for bringing me here, and removing me from those dreadful sights and sounds, that would have driven me distracted, even if I had been in my right mind. I don’t think I shall ever care for this bonnet again.
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