‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature. She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. Ann Veronica listened thoughtfully, with her eyes on the turf, and now and then she asked a question or looked up to discuss a point. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain. “I am sorry,” he said slowly. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. “Good God!” he exclaimed.
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