When Ann Veronica got it she had at first a wild, fantastic idea that it contained a tip. He smiled inwardly. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like.
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