"Why, first," rejoined Austin, "there's Sir James Thornhill, historical painter to his Majesty, and the greatest artist of the day. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. “Alone, dear?” “Yes, aunt. "I hope not. I'd go for it. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock.
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