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By and by we plunged into a dark hallway, climbed a long, unsavoury, corkscrew staircase, and knocked at a door. A gruff voice having answered, ''Trez! we entered Chalks's bare, bleak, paint-smelling studio. Then he demanded, in a sort of grunt, 'Eh bien, qu'est ce que c'est? always without pausing in his work or looking round.
Up there was even gravel to scratch in, and a dog could do whatever he liked, so long as he did not bark. It was a kind of Heaven, which no one was strong enough to reach but his great, paint-smelling master. On this blue May night there was a slender, girlish looking young moon in the west, playing with a whole company of silver stars.
"That's twenty-two," said Mrs. Walkingshaw. "Just the right number," replied her husband. "It was what the Kilconquars had when we dined there." Everything that Andrew had done was right, and his circumstances reflected his rectitude. No dodging about devious lanes in the fog for him and Mrs. Walkingshaw; no slow progress in crowded omnibuses; no Bohemian teas in paint-smelling studios.
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