Painting is only one slender branch of the great tree. Nothing could have been farther from Melusine’s mind. Critically, she stared at her own features. "If that sickly brat lives to be a man," continued Jonathan, rising, "I'll hang him upon the same tree as his father. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. Besides, I acted for others, and not for myself.
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