He opened his eyes, protestingly, and beheld the realization of his dream. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. It was—in connection with this man Hill. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it.
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