Wood; but they never come now. It felt wonderful and golden to bask in the sunlight of their approval, even if their approval was fickle and dangerous. She looked at him confusedly, his black hair glinting under the dim lights. 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. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better.
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