“One can talk without undertones, so to speak,” said Ramage. Anna turned deliberately away from the bedside. They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. "Mother—dear mother! Once again, I beseech you to listen to me. Stones and brickbats were showered on all sides, and Mr. I too, Anna, have watched and read of your success with—I must confess it—some misgiving. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. Not about girls that I date.
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