’ Captain Roding grinned. He certainly bore inspection. He wants you—or he doesn’t; and then he helps some other woman against you. One might suppose him turning up; he knew a lot of clever people, and some of them might belong to the class. It was a sickening process, and the sucking sound was sure to wake up Ray’s mother. “I am much obliged to you,” he said. 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. Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket. “For instance?” She smiled.
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