" "You may go, and welcome, Madam!" rejoined Kneebone, spitefully. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. She had to exert tremendous energy not to sniff the air for his blood. Later, she would sew it on. To win the contest meant you would be chosen to apprentice in magic as a priest under her tutelage. “Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption.
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