It was his tall stance and his pale skin that drew him out of the crowd. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. “Why did I ever take that loan? An idiot girl in an asylum would have known better than that! “Vulgarity of soul and innocence of mind—the worst of all conceivable combinations.
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