They walked back to 118 hand in hand. Marvel, who was now quite dissolved in tears, "I shall never survive this scene. I know how bad it feels. ‘You make a game with me, I think. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. I don’t believe any one could have traced us here. 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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