But you need not fear,’ she added, shaking him off. I went to the theatre that night. "I haven't offended you?"—not contritely but curiously. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. The chair was torture.
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