For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. And he would express various artistic sensibilities and aesthetic appreciations in carefully punctuated sentences and a large, clear voice. ‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. You don’t know what you ask nor what you say. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted.
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