She was too late. She thought of her costume in some detail and with considerable satisfaction, and particularly of a very jolly property dagger with large glass jewels in the handle, that reposed in a drawer in her room. He laughed. By and by she heard the screen door. “Is Coke okay?” He asked as he pulled into the gas station. Terrific shouts were raised by the rabble, who threatened to tear Wild in pieces if he showed himself. They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers.
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