10/22 I am absorbed, you see--absorbed. It is a strange problem of colour, this." He was silent for several moments, glancing repeatedly out of the window and back to his canvas, painting all the time with swift and delicate precision. He has a soul, my friend Sarson, although you might not think it. He, too, sees sometimes the colour in the skies, the glitter upon the sands, the clear, sweet purity of those long stretches of virgin water. Meekins, I believe, has a soul, only he likes better to see these things grow under his master's touch than to wander about and solve their riddles for himself." The man remained perfectly immovable. |