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. It was a “territory” back then, and many a Frenchman and a Redskin both had been devoured in those caves. But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. If they entered a shop, he paused by the doorway, as if waiting for the journey to be resumed. ” 174 < 21 > THANKSGIVING She padded softly up the old stairs, exhausted and elated.
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