His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. Your lamented mother, whose loss I shall ever deplore, perceived my passion and encouraged it. Nothing. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. “Quite different. He had studied alchemy and astronomy, was a capable painter, and even wrote music. mm.
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