‘Well, only look what’s come of it. She put her mouth on him. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. Ill-drawn, without method or sense of proportion, you have put wonderful things on to canvas, have drawn them out of yourself, notwithstanding your mechanical inefficiency. She wrapped a leg around him.
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