He had been baptized there. 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. You tonic my liver and you tonic my soul. Brendon was silent. ‘That’s better. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman—you wear different clothes, you have the air of another world.
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