Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. ‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. " Out of the beaten track! thought Spurlock. 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. " "Horror!" cried Jack. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness.
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