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 demand to know what is going on right now! How dare you come here telling MY child that she has to answer YOUR questions! This little girl has never done anything wrong in the two and a half years she has lived with us!” Larry came down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. He stopped abruptly. They were at the corner of Pall Mall now, and had come to a standstill.
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