Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange
recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless
woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all
others beside her seem plain or vulgar. The white veil had fallen to the ground and
Gerald retrieved it for her. Why had he glanced up—quite in that way?. Chapter IV
THE TEMPERAMENT OF AN ARTIST
“You may sit there and smoke, and look out upon your wonderful Paris,” Anna
said lightly. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where,
Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the
letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. ”
“Of course you don’t,” said Miss Miniver, gesticulating triumphantly with her
thin hand and thinner wrist, and patting Ann Veronica’s knee. “Glad to see you in London. But he afterwards acted upon the suggestion. He brought into
service all his Oriental bar-room tricks. It was a great relief to arrive at last at that pause when she could say to her
aunt, “Now, dear?” and rise and hold back the curtain through the archway.
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