When they reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. 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. She found pieces of it on the blacktop near the green dumpster, amazingly small pieces considering the fabric’s original heft. Their very furniture had mysteriously a high-browed quality, and Mr. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience.
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