You are an artist by the Divine right of birth, but whatever form of expression may come to you at some time it will not be painting. Suddenly a half stifled exclamation broke from Anna’s lips. Jonathan had to feel his way. You were delicious in concert, by the way. “No, the only person I told before tonight was my mother and father. I——” The door was thrown open. He started a dozen stories, but they all ended in the waste-basket. He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key, (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted,) thrust it into his vest, and motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room. “But if you knew anything of that—” “I did. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. “Ann Veronica,” he said. There is the key. Only the next of kin.
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