He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. If they do, now and then, run away with a knocker, paint a sign, beat the watch, or huff a magistrate, they pay for their pastime, and that's sufficient. The door popped open with a sigh. “I have my methods. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. I didn’t go out of my way or anything. ’ Gerald opened his eyes at her. During the narration Jack's features lighted up, and an expression, which would have been in vain looked for in repose, was instantly caught and depicted by the skilful artist.
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