He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. Into this new world, vivid with colour, came Spurlock, receptively. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. “We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes. "Clean and spotless, but beginning to show the wear and tear of constant use. " "I'll give you something better worth keeping," she answered, detaching the ornament from her neck, and presenting it to him; "this contains a lock of my hair, and may remind you sometimes of your little sister.
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