” John’s father, Thomas, strode into the front hall at that moment in his golf clothes. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. 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. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully. " "Here he is!" cried Ireton, as the knocking was heard without. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. ” She side-stepped into his living room from behind a square white column.
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