The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. 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. Jack may be capable of much that is wicked, but he would never lift his hand against his friend,—of that I am assured. She mentally resolved to do her best to avoid personal encounters with him in that instant. She meditated profoundly through several enormous cold hours on all that had happened and all that she had done since the swirl of the suffrage movement had submerged her personal affairs. It was nothing like the big church wedding she wanted, but nothing could shame her greater than to have a child out of wedlock.
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