Why was this? Why would I have kept him away if I could? I asked myself
this question many times, as I came slowly down the hill that night.
Was it because it would be a hindrance to my work? No, for my picture
had made good progress, and I could work it up even better in my studio
at home. Besides which, Tom was a good-natured fellow, and would sit
smoking and chatting in the old boat whilst I painted.
Was it that I wanted to be quiet, and to enjoy my present surroundings
without interruption? No, surely, for Tom's company had always been
pleasant to me, and I could not look upon him as a stranger.
Why was it, then, that I felt almost sorry that he had followed me here?
I had a suspicion of the right answer to that question, but I did not
own it, even to myself, till I entered my lodging.
Duncan was reading a chapter aloud to Polly, as he always did before
going to bed. He stopped when he saw me come in, but I said, 'Go on,
Duncan, never mind me; I shall like to listen.' And the very first words
that Duncan read seemed to me to contain the answer to my question.
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