“I wonder,” said Ann Veronica at last, “if I am beautiful? I wonder if I shall ever shine like a light, like a translucent goddess?— “I wonder— “I suppose girls and women have prayed for this, have come to this—In Babylon, in Nineveh. You will never be happy with this hanging over you. Who is to say that I am not André Valade, an obscure relation of the late vicomte. A farthing candle, stuck in a bottle neck, shed its feeble light upon the table, which, owing to the provident kindness of Mr. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck. Enchanted.
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