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. ” Meddoes turned round from the table on which he was practising shots and shrugged his shoulders. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. I say, I'll take the yarn over and read it to McClintock. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. ” “It is an accident,” he answered. I want to do something. .
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