"
CHAPTER VI. "
"We shall have a durty night on it, to a sartinty, landlord," observed an old oneeyed sailor, who sat smoking his pipe by the fire-side. She meant to leave anyway, or so
she would tell herself later. It was the gallows. You lack only that mechanical knack of expression
which is the least important part of an artist’s equipment, but which remains a
tedious and absolute necessity. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a
friendly American bar-keep to talk to. Every rule is against me—Why did I let you begin this? I might have told—”
“I don’t see that you could help—”
“I might have helped—”
“You couldn’t. “But my dear Ann Veronica, you will be getting into debt!”
Ann Veronica at once, and with a feeling of immense relief, took refuge in her
dignity. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their
papers.
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