When the woollen-draper was nearly worn out, the Amazon watched her opportunity, and hitting him on the arm, disabled it. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. “Why don’t you wear your white blouse more often? It is the prettiest shirt you own. Paul’s, were rich and wonderful with the soft sunshine of London, the softest, the finest grained, the most penetrating and least emphatic sunshine in the world.
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