“Would YOU like us—if some one told you the bare outline of our story?— and what we are doing?” “I shouldn’t mind,” said Ann Veronica. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. “You remind me of a little blue stone I had once. ” Then she looked up at him with frightened eyes. She seemed tense when not playing, he noted, more so than she had during the first two pieces. Ann Veronica sat back with a sigh of relief. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. \"Word gets round.
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