For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. ” “And that, I suppose,” he said, waving his stick towards Mr. His name was Bartolomeo di Alberti. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity. you walking home?\" 3 She paused, stunned. CHAPTER IV. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. Then he had gone away.
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