She hesitated, and for a moment thought of omitting her second verse altogether. She turned on the lad with her, who was visibly relieved. Give me my pistol and my dagger. "Will that do?" he added, returning it. 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. "My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. She’s as stubborn as the proverbial mule, and—’ with a sigh that felt wrenched out of him ‘—utterly captivating. I kept them on myself till the sight of your empty chair and the chill loneliness of it all nearly sent me mad.
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