It’s too valiant, Miss Stanley, too valiant altogether!” Ann Veronica meditated. ” “One has theories,” said Ann Veronica, radiantly. ‘What a fate he finds for me. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. My sister made me over, you know. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. “Go on!” “You know—in Paris they coupled my name with some one’s—an Englishman’s. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is.
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