I cannot go on. “Not much. 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. But I liked to say it. “But I have forbidden it!” he said, raising his voice. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. People sat in unusual pews, and a wide margin of hassocky emptiness intervened between the ceremony and the walls.
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