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 don't you, the funny crooked little man in the knitted comforter and the brown billycock whom I used to call Foxy Face? One morning when you were out he offered Uncle Si five pounds for it and Uncle Si said it might be worth a good deal more. That's why I decided to get hold of it if I could, before Uncle Si got it from you. And that's why I cracked it up and made you think I could see all sorts of wonders in it, when all the time I saw no more beauty in it than there is in That." And she pointed to the Hoodoo.

William gave a little gasp. June heard the gasp. And in the mad unhappiness of that moment she determined to spare herself nothing. She would strip herself bare so that the whip might be better laid on.

"Beauty means no more to me than it does to that Thing there. All your talk about Hobbemas and Marises and Vermeers and Cromes are to me just sloppy. They bore me stiff every time. I hate the sight of all these things." The wave of a wildly tragic hand included all the masterpieces in the Long Gallery. "I hate them! I hate them! So now you know the mean and dirty liar that I am."

No longer able to bear the sound of her strange and terrible words he turned sickly away. It was almost as if they had opened a vein in his heart. He remembered again the cry that had haunted him after his seeing her first at the Hospital. "Am I struck? Am I like Uncle Si? Am I like the Hoodoo?"

Poor soul! It was not for him to judge her. He could only think of her sufferings. And it was cruel indeed to realize what they must be now.

"That's why I don't want the money. And that's why I don't mean to have it. I burn when I think of