I wasn’t. "What the devil makes you out so late? And what has happened to you, man, eh?—you seem in a queer plight. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. Painting is only one slender branch of the great tree. Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return. ” “An appetite like yours,” he said resignedly, “is fatal to all sentiment. ‘You mean that there is a rival Melusine to the one he has heard about? He does not.
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