He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. ‘You wound me to the heart, Melusine. 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. There were no mourners. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. By and by he gathered enough courage to lean toward her.
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