“We parted— that night the best of friends. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “these gentlemen are your friends, and therefore they are my friends. “He is one of our guests—perhaps I should say boarders here, but he seldom returns before dinner-time. At times I swear I’ve never met a more jaded fifteen-year-old, and your lie about being sixteen didn’t get by me for one second, believe it. ” For some seconds he had remained quite still. When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity.
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