As he balanced the photograph, a humorous twinkle came into his eyes. Inquiring for Mrs. . “Dear me!” he said. He walked on for an hour longer, till he could scarcely drag one leg after another. He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. 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.
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