You are an artist by the Divine right of birth, but whatever form of expression may come to you at some time it will not be painting. In an instant, she turned on him. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache. “I am lonely. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. ‘Gabbling and muttering in a foreign tongue, that’s what I heard, sir,’ had declared the gap-toothed ancient, when he told them of the initial foray he had made, sneaking around the house in the dark.
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