’ Gosse’s eyes went to the portrait, and evidently took in the uncanny resemblance, looking from it to Melusine and back again. The Widow and her Child II. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. Sorry I’m a bit late the first evening. ‘I only wish I might have won her confidence. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Ruth was not a woman; she was a phenomenon.
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