With a well-simulated unconcern and a heightened color she finished her breakfast. 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. Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true. The thought allured him, and therein lay the danger. "So endeth the first lesson," he said.
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