Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. How dare you use my name and sing my songs?” Anna looked at her sister in blank amazement. Paris is not the place for two young girls. Fearful that she had given herself away, she sank back down onto her stool. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. You have been going out every morning, and coming home late—tired out—too tired to come down to dinner. “Our interest lies in heading them off. ” “Right!” he answered. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. Wood; "and Blueskin, too.
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