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. Jonathan, however, still lingered. " "I didn't suspect you of so much superstition, Mr. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. “Look here! Aren’t you going a little too far? This—this is degradation—making a fuss with sleeves. She has contrived to keep out of my sight up to this time, and I've no doubt she'll keep out of it altogether for the future. I’ve got no feminine class feeling. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood.
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