" said Tom. "It's the painter that matters

john9221

laymate of her youth." She shook his hand with affection-
ate warmth [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and, still holding it, led him into a large front room where a
brand new easel, flanked by a small table, stood close to the window.
Tom cast a comprehensive glance around and rapidly assessed the occu-
pant in professional terms. Apart from the easel and the colour-box yilai:
[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]
christian louboutin outlet
[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],
brushes and water-pot on the table, it was just a typical woman's sitting-
room, in which the tea-table with its furnishings seemed more at home
than the easel.
"This is my humble workshop," said his hostess; "a poor affair com-
pared with your noble studio, but still—"
"It would probably have been good enough for Turner or DeWint [link widoczny dla zalogowanych],"
said Tom. "It's the painter that matters, not the studio. Shall we have a
look at some of your work?"
"Yes [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], let's," she replied brightly, leading him towards the easel. "This is
my latest. I am not quite satisfied with it but I don't think I will carry it
any further for fear of spoiling it. What do you think?"
Tom stared at the object on the easel and gibbered inarticulately. A
half-sheet of Whatman had been pinned untidily on a board and covered
with curved streaks of bright colour, evidently laid, very wet, on
damped paper, producing an effect li