She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. wonderful. “How unkind!” she exclaimed. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. My death, probably. “But that’s not all. "How very like it is!" "Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, "that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended. I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. “I throw it out in passing,” he said. Part 7 “And what are you doing here, young lady,” he said, looking up at her face, “wandering alone so far from home?” “I like long walks,” said Ann Veronica, looking down on him. She found no ready reply to that, and he went on: “This music is the food of love.
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