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. You know nothing of life, nothing of its dangers, nothing of its possibilities. " "But I've got to go!" insisted Rollo, in perfectly understandable dog-talk. I want him as my friend. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance.
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