Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion. The eminent painter had handsome, expressive features, an aquiline nose, and a good deal of dignity in his manner. Each arm of the blouse had the faintest of rings around the elbow, a stain that looked familiar. ‘And now,’ he said, drawing Madame to the seat, and contriving to sit close enough that his anatomy touched hers at several points, ‘let us talk about you, madame.
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