Huge of limb, with flaming hair and red, scrawny neck, a complacent smile overspreading pale, freckled features and peeping out of his mild blue eyes, the Art Master sat opposite me, luxuriously sprawling against leather cushions in a small cafe in Seward Road.
"Ay, it's good to we here,' he mumbled, with his mouth half full of doughnut, "here, again in the bustling haunts of men. True we are more fortunate than some -two need never lack company; but even when alone who would not choos" the city in preference to the village?"
My reply lacked conviction; 1t was framed to egg him on his favourite path of controversy.
"But do you not feel the sincerity of airy life—its arti-' ficiality. Village dwellers at least come in contact with the beauties of Nature, which surely must have a beneficent effect 7"
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.