He was a fool. Painting is only one slender branch of the great tree. Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. ‘What, and miss getting myself murdered?’ ‘She said she wouldn’t murder you. The expression pervading the countenance of the one was vulgarity; of the other, that which is rarely found, except in persons of high birth. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. ‘But I have been perfectly honest about that.
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