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. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing. ‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. In a few seconds, the shutter flew open,—then the window,—and they were in the room. . After quarter of an hour, she followed. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. He would teach her all he knew of life so that if the Hand should ever reach his shoulder, she would be able to defend herself.
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