“Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. Which is why I wasn’t able to see him until today. Sheppard, with a vehemence that shook even the hardened wretch beside her, "begone, and tempt me not. Burn your palette and your easel. The hurricane had now reached its climax. She found the silence comforting, as old people often do.
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