Stay where you are, Mr. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. And lunged once more. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. “You have not seen your sister lately,” he remarked. He remembered that he had heard stories about the wonderful likeness between these two sisters, one of whom was an artist and a recluse, whilst the other had attached herself to a very gay and a very brilliant little coterie of pleasure-seekers. "Suppose we go and have tea? I'd like to take you to a teahouse I know, but we'll go to the Victoria instead.
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