"Rowland," said Lady Trafford, regarding him with a look of indescribable anxiety, "you have assured me that I shall behold my son. 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. She was supposed to be lifeless; but she survived the accident, though she never regained her strength. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. He filled her glass with champagne. ’ ‘You have seen him? Exactement. The old fool’s been working on you through your sister to keep off the stage. A feeling of inexplicable awe crept over the carpenter as the sounds died away.
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