You're luck. 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. For all her begging she had been given the choice to go into the nunnery and “learn how to read scrolls with the rest of God’s Spinsters” by her father, but had quickly lost interest when presented with the idea of bearing babies. Then a hansom drove up, and his heart gave a great leap. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. ’ He grinned. My sinuses are so swollen up right now. ‘No mistaking you this time.
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