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You lack only that mechanical knack of expression which is the least important part of an artist’s equipment, but which remains a tedious and absolute necessity. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. The two young fools laughed until they cried. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. Someone was coming out of the house. Hetty, who had periods of lucid expression, put the thing for her from her pillow. She gazed with a quiet detachment toward the window and the Oxford Street traffic, and in her heart she was busy kicking this man to death. My will is executed, and placed in safe custody. He stood back and held her shoulders. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. I cannot be intimate—’ stressing the word with a deep look ‘— with one I feel to be a stranger.
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