"I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. . I don’t conceal it. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. ‘Now see here, missie. ” She instructed him. There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman. 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. He jumped back, cursing.
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