He closed the door. 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. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. “May I hear?” “It really isn’t much to tell,” Drummond answered. “It was such a surprise to see you. She breathed deeply. I don’t think you understand. Yet she held her tongue. “How did you hear that?” Lucy’s brows knitted.
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