God had never answered any of her prayers. 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. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile.
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