“Another young woman, I suppose,” he said, “who knows better than her Maker about her place in the world. Another long interval elapsed. Presently they came to a wall, on the other side of which the dog began to bark violently; but Blueskin tossed him a piece of prepared meat, and uttering a low growl, he became silent. . He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. Her voice was weak and flat.
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