But he had shown no desire for information, no curiosity. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. 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. Annabel was in hiding all the time. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. I speak frankly, because you also know that no possible extremity would induce me to accept help from any living person. ’ That arrested her. ’ ‘But I have still a dagger,’ Melusine warned. Pull over there.
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