” He sat like a man turned to stone. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. 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. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. And she was as shrewd as they come. But did any woman get anything better from a man? Perhaps every woman conceals herself from a man perforce!.
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