She put a stool for him at a little distance from her own, and after he had seen the day’s work he hesitated, and then plunged into a resumption of their discussion about beauty. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. Ann Veronica ignored her friend’s confusion.
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