She could not help herself. "The lash cuts to the bone. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. His literary instincts were reviving. ’ He grinned. ” “How?” “It prevents our marrying. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. “It is too late for visitors,” she remarked. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. 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.
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