as he often remembered afterwards, and always with no small wonder, he found himself at first gazing at the portrait with a feeling of almost scientific interest. that such a change should have taken place was incredible to him. and yet it was a fact. was there some subtle affinity between the chemical atoms that shaped themselves into form and colour on the canvas and the soul that was within him? could it be that what that soul thought, they realized?--that what it dreamed, they made true? or was there some other, more terrible reason? he shuddered, and felt afraid, and, going back to the couch, lay there, gazing at the picture in sickened horror.
josephine repeated, "cyril says his father is still very fond of meringues."
only in the last extremity shall i apply to you.
not the reverse of easy to unpack, so as to cause a waste of time and waiting.
he did not look at her. he unpacked his tray and promptly began eating. it was all-important to speak at once, before anyone else came, but now a terrible fear had taken possession of him. a week had gone by since she had first approached him. She would have changed her mind, she must have changed her mind! it was impossible that this affair should end successfully; such things did not happen in real life.
with his eyes shut, at a distance he could say exactly.
the question suggests itself -- how many instruments and of what sort are required by any one wishing to enter this field? a list of these i propose to give, not omitting the theoretical side of the matter in each case, so that whoever lays his hand to this work may have some knowledge to go upon. it would be a mistake to regard these details as trivial. in fact, without them the undertaking might as well be let alone.