’ She shook her head sadly. "Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. Disillusion stands in one doorway of our house and Mockery in the other. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure.
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