” With a murmured word of excuse she glided away, and Courtlaw, who had come with a mission which seemed to him to be one of life or death, was left to listen to the latest art jargon from Chelsea. “I suppose, daddy, you’ve no objection to my going on with my work at the Imperial College?” she asked. The lad looked alarmed. " "Don't stir, or they'll chain you to the wall," said his mother detaining him. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. He went into the study and sat down at his table, but not to write.
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