“Do you like my dress?” “Yes, the dress is beautiful, but you are much more beautiful than any dress. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. . 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.
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