“Thank you. 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. Men usually do. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. ‘It did not seem to me that it was so. There was no way to warn her of his presence without startling her.
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