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But I return to Rome and our travellers in the trumpery line. Those we overheard before are already gone. But their places have been quickly filled. They follow one another, like vapours rising from the ocean, and they are as much like one another as one sea-wave is to its predecessor. See them laying-in their stocks of Roman souvenirs at the shops in the Corso and the Via Condotti.

"Vaisampayana said, 'When the Brahma-weapon was withdrawn by Krishna, at that time, the laying-in room was illumined by thy father with his energy. In the welkin a voice was heard, saying, "Excellent, O Kesava, Excellent!" Thy sire got back his life-breaths, O king. The child began to move according to his energy and might. The Bharata ladies became filled with joy.

From the first, he had seemed to regard the laying-in of our stock purely in the nature of a tribute to his sporting tastes. He had a fixed idea that he was a hunting dog and that, recognising this, we had very decently provided him with the material for the chase. Behind Bob came Ukridge. But a glance was enough to tell me that he was a negligible factor in the pursuit.

Nothing could have been more strange than the aspect of the drawing, thus solitary, and brightly illuminated. Phoebe looked at it in bewilderment, then round the littered studio. Beyond the lamps, she saw the large new canvas, showing dimly the first 'laying-in' of its important subject. On the floor, and running round the walls, was a thin line of sketches and canvases.

When he was gone I ate a soldier's portion, knowing of old how ill a thing it is to take an empty stomach into battle. For the same cause I drank a second cup of wine, 'twas old madeira of my father's laying-in, and would have drunk a third but that the bottle would not yield it. It was fully dark when I had finished, and, thinking ever on my plan, would strive afresh to weld its weakest link.

The visitors paused to see Fenwick standing between them and a large canvas covered with the first 'laying-in' of an important subject. The model, a thin, dark-faced fellow, was standing meekly on the spot to which Fenwick had motioned him, while the artist, palette on thumb, stood absorbed and frowning, his keen eye travelling from the man's head to the canvas behind it. Lord Findon smiled.