And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. You lack only that mechanical knack of expression which is the least important part of an artist’s equipment, but which remains a tedious and absolute necessity. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. She glanced into her companion’s face, and she saw there strange things.
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