“I want to be a Person,” said Ann Veronica to the downs and the open sky; “I will not have this happen to me, whatever else may happen in its place. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Opals. And by monsieur le baron, of a disposition entirely unforgiving, I do not desire to be recognised in the least. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose.
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