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The son of a small tobacconist, he had grown up a sign-painter's apprentice; idle, lawless, and practically letterless until he had drifted into the night classes of the Albert League, where Ghillini sometimes lectured. From the moment he came under the eye and influence of that erratic Italian, then a political exile, his life had swerved sharply from its old channel.
After his marriage he relapsed into his old habits of incessant work, broken by violent and often brutal relaxations. He insulted her friends and foisted his own upon her many of them well calculated to arouse aversion in any well-bred girl. He had Ghillini constantly at the house a homeless vagabond, whose conversation was impossible. I don't say, mind you, that he had not grievances on his side.
MacMaster hastily assured her as to this, adding, "I mean to touch on only such facts in his personal life as have to do directly with his work such as his monkish education under Ghillini." "I see your meaning, I think," said Lady Ellen, looking at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
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