You forget all the mass of training and tradition and instinct that go to make him a tolerable master. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. This was a much more serious task than he anticipated. Near the door stood a pile of deal planks, behind which the carpenter ensconced himself in order to reconnoitre, unobserved, the proceedings of his idle apprentice. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. ‘You see, it is that my papa, he is without sympathy,’ said the lady sadly. I don’t play anything.
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