It suited him to dampen the spirits of any who sought to impose upon him, as these relics of the loathed family of Valade seemed like to do. By and by he ventured to peer into this window. It’s an emerald. 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. Habits and tastes are no longer the same. Terrific shouts were raised by the rabble, who threatened to tear Wild in pieces if he showed himself.
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