He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. “She told you that?” “Yes. 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. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. “Eight, Cavendish Square. That is my way, my dear. "They will kill me, if they find me, as they would have killed my husband and child. I wouldn't allow you to be honest even if you could be so,—which I doubt. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room.
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