At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. ‘Martha was my wet-nurse? But she is unmarried. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. And of course! She had a brilliant idea. “By Jove!” he said, “there is something direct about you. She is a magician sought by all. ” Anna was bewildered. I suppose my creed is, ‘I believe rather indistinctly in God the Father Almighty, substratum of the evolutionary process, and, in a vein of vague sentimentality that doesn’t give a datum for anything at all, in Jesus Christ, His Son. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers.
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