“NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. You are not going anywhere but to the Tredgold College. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. As soon as the latter beheld him, she uttered a loud scream, and fainted. The vengeance of the assailants did not stop here. From the white beach the palms ran in serried rows quarter of a mile inland, then began a jungle of bamboo, gum-tree, sandalwood, plantain, huge fern, and choking grasses. She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down.
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