’ To be sure there was a way. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. To his astonishment and delight it yielded to the pressure, toppled over the ledge, and sank. She was going through with that, anyhow. Hold your hand for a moment. Remote little Ann Veronica! She would never know the heart of that child again! That child had loved fairy princes with velvet suits and golden locks, and she was in love with a real man named Capes, with little gleams of gold on his cheek and a pleasant voice and firm and shapely hands. . “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. I wanted to talk to you before when you first came to live here two years ago, but I never did.
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