‘It is precisely that point over which Melusine and I fell out. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. “Read this, John.
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