He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. 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. I wanted the magic of love. Take the one that struck him at this moment. What were your findings?” Lucy asked. ‘Sapristi,’ he gasped.
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