But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. The eminent painter had handsome, expressive features, an aquiline nose, and a good deal of dignity in his manner. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. That’s about the beginning.
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