You won't refuse me, I'm sure; so no more need be said about the matter. Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related. “I am sorry,” she said, “if you find the likeness unsatisfactory. Perhaps I deceived you about it. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. Wood rest till he brought the villains to justice. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. .
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