What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. It made her laugh, which in turn made him laugh. Anna merely glanced at the coarse, flushed features, and at once shook her head. "I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. “I didn’t know you objected to him, daddy. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is.
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