Forthwith he presented his card. You are an artist by the Divine right of birth, but whatever form of expression may come to you at some time it will not be painting. “Yes, I see that. 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.
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