A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. Why may I not be your friend? Somehow or other I feel that you have been driven into a false position. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. "Why, first," rejoined Austin, "there's Sir James Thornhill, historical painter to his Majesty, and the greatest artist of the day.
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