He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. But what if she were to marry? He glanced towards the elderly dame and found her watching him, the dimple very much in evidence. The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. It has been a big night. Give me the books. “Don’t fence with me,” Anna cried fiercely. I could not dream of loving you. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude.
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