’ Melusine sobered, sitting down again. If my conjectures are right, this boy would stay there indefinitely. ” “What ball?” The question was rhetorical. Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. 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.
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