“I am going to ignore it. "Here's a cross-bite. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. You know very well that you took from my easel David Courtlaw’s study of me, and sent it to Cariolus. Anna, with her marvellous capacity for enjoyment, ate cakes and laughed, and forgot that she had had tea an hour or so ago at an A. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. ” “So you think. “Your name and address in his pocket was no delusion,” he said sharply. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. . Every moment.
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