A broken laugh followed the action. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. She hung for a moment, and then went on, conclusively, “Until we have the vote that is how things WILL be. Ann Veronica’s tense nerves started, and she stood still with her eyes upon him, wondering what it might be that impended. Me, you may have. Are you sure you haven't mistaken the ward, Mr. Good-looking girl. Take me with you. I proceeded to Manchester, to investigate the matter further, and when there ascertained, beyond a doubt, that you were the eldest daughter of Sir Montacute Trenchard.
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