He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. “So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled. With your pencil you see into the hearts of all; and without your pencil you are dumb and blind. The ragged edge. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. I’m a female thing at bottom. He forces an engagement upon her. “You are very good,” she said.
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