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Updated: May 23, 2025
It was not a great success at first, but as soon as the time had got into Harz's feet, they went swinging on when all the rest had stopped. Sometimes one couple or another slipped through the window to dance on the veranda, and came whirling in again. The lamplight glowed on the girls' white dresses; on Herr Paul's perspiring face.
Dogged does it!" and the near horse, throwing up her head, whinnied; a fleck of foam drifted into Harz's face. The painter had come on impulse; because Christian had told him to, not of his own free will. He was angry with himself, wounded in self-esteem, for having allowed any one to render him this service.
With the sound of the intoning a sense of peace came to her the peace of resolution. For good or bad she felt that she had faced her fate. She went out with a look of quiet serenity and walked home along the dyke. Close to Harz's studio she sat down. Now it was her own; all that had belonged to him, that had ever had a part in him.
"Ach!" said Herr Paul, "garcon tres chic, celui-la!" Christian was standing by her little table. The stranger began. "I am sending Mr. Harz's things to England; there are some pictures here. He would be glad to have them." A flood of crimson swept over her face. "I am sending them to London," the stranger repeated; "perhaps you could give them to me to-day."
How goes it then this morning? A good walk, hein?" The sound of many loud rapid kisses followed. "Ha, Fraulein, good!" He became aware of Harz's figure standing in the doorway: "Und der Herr?" Miss Naylor hurriedly explained. "Good! An artist! Kommen Sie herein, I am delight. You will breakfast? I too yes, yes, my dears I too breakfast with you this morning. I have the hunter's appetite."
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