She snatched about in her mind. Wild, Captain?" remonstrated the other, in a deferential tone. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. " "As you please, Sir,—provided you don't let him off. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed. Wasn’t easy, I can tell you. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul.
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