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And for many years, that was the way it was. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. ‘That’s why I never told Joan Ibstock that you were still with me when I wrote. For a moment he believed this merely a new phase of the dream. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent. I do swear. Gentlemen,—Mr. "He is respited?" "Alas! no," replied Thames, sadly.
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