I have given up painting. It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. “Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created. “Mr. I must finish it at home. Only that I was prevented by one of those soldiers that caught me in the big house. This happened after he ate.
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