That was the only sound he heard. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. “Nothing so base. It was a clear, lovely, October morning. Shari proceeded to paint, brush, dust, slather, and blot Lucy’s face with makeup.
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