” She said. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. ’ Both Valade and the granddaughter gazed at him blankly. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him. We won’t drag you away until you’ve been through the place from top to bottom. Manning, her aunt and father, neighbors, customs, traditions, forces.
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