To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. "That we were afraid," replied the other; "but never mind her. For your information, it was paradise there. We had better have it over. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one.
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