"Surely," she said, after a pause, "you don't attach any importance to what my mother has just said. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. It is so difficult. I saw the metal box a hundred times, but I never thought of opening it until the day I fled. He has been lodged in every round-house in the metropolis, and has broken out of them all, and boasts that no prison can hold him. Still he had a decent look, and decidedly the air of one well-to-do in the world. " "Sir!" exclaimed Winifred. before them soldiers. “Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours.
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