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. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. ” She said. Something he saw there had a curious effect upon him.
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