As a man, Sebastian had always held enough power to live in luxury. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. “You do not know what such a relation means. That’s— that’s my private life. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. An action which gave Gerald furiously to think. She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. 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.
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