“Mean as an old mule, too. Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song. “Well,” she said. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. And the food! She and Marina had done most of the cooking at home. Wood's anxiety grew so insupportable, that he seized his hat with the intention of sallying forth in search of them, though he did not know whither to bend his steps, when his departure was arrested by a gentle knock at the door. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence.
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