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. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. . For most of a long and fluctuating night she was fairly confident that she would find work; she knew herself to be strong, intelligent, and capable by the standards of most of the girls she knew. ‘Wait a minute, though. Give this fellow the slip, if you can, Jack. He has given orders that no one is to disturb him.
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