” “How?” “Well—a little clumsily. ” “It takes a great deal of bad weather to depress the true Parisian,” Anna admitted. . CHAPTER XIII. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. It was all highly intriguing. Finally, at the exit into Regent’s Park, they ran against Miss Klegg. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. Nothing but the publicity of the place and the recollection of that terrible constituency kept him from attempting some perfectly respectful but unmistakable evidence of his sympathy.
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