He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. ‘I believe that. Painting is only one slender branch of the great tree. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. ’ ‘Ah, the matter begins to come clear,’ Gerald said.
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