This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. It wasn’t long ago that a girl went straight from the farm to her husband, just as soon as her period came and she could make babies. 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. He is here by your side. I am afraid, Anna, just a little afraid, that in Paris I and my friends here might seem a trifle advanced. ‘Unheard of, ain’t it? To tell the truth, I half expected him to leave everything to one of his doxies. They had refused. “But, how,” he said, sitting up astonished beyond measure, “not go on?” “I have been thinking while you have been talking. “Molly and you settled about the rooms. “Well, I have said what I had to say, stumblingly and badly, and baldly.
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