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. His interest was divided: while his ears drank in the sounds, his glance constantly roved from Ruth to the performer and back to Ruth. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry. Ruth shivered; she was cold. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up.
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