"Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head. He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. Good riddance. Sometimes these dreams are simple and tender; sometimes they are magnificent. \" \"Good night, Mom.
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