She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. ” “I have a clue, at any rate,” he remarked, smiling. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. The stain was blood, but this was a stain that resulted from being up one’s elbows in blood! She smiled a nurse’s knowing smile.
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