" "There's but one way of clearing it, your worship," said the Master, archly. Their chit-chat stopped when they reached the bench. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. ” “And that, I suppose,” he said, waving his stick towards Mr. His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows. ‘Come, Hilary. I can't invent; the thing won't come.
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