” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. “I can get you,” Mr. ” She stopped buttoning her glove, and looked at him. She hoped fervently that Martin had not divulged his crush to Brown. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man.
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