Something about the girl had suggested an idea. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. The appearance of the new-comer was extremely prepossessing; and, after his trepidation had a little subsided, Wood began to regard him with some degree of interest. He sat up in his chair again, the colour came back to his cheeks. Ill-drawn, without method or sense of proportion, you have put wonderful things on to canvas, have drawn them out of yourself, notwithstanding your mechanical inefficiency.
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