He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. I’m not sure if Janine cared. "And equally easy to prove it," replied Jack, giving him the paper he had abstracted from Wild. Gerald did not know who she was, but he knew who she was not. Or else he was indeed obsessed. He would know her address to-morrow. They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup. You did not learn that in a convent. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself.
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