The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “Your mother was a Gypsy. Lucy spoke once they had turned the corner. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. “Very well,” said Ann Veronica, with an air of concluding the discussion. ” She chilled Ann Veronica a little by that last phrase, and yet the magnetism of her fellowship and enthusiasm was very strong; and it was pleasant to be made out a heroine after so much expostulation and so many secret doubts.
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