'
'That wur her livin' mullo,' said Sinfi solemnly.
Convinced though I was that the hallucination was the natural result
of Sinfi's harping upon the literal fulfilment of the curse, it
depressed me greatly.
Close to this beautiful spot we came suddenly upon two tourists
sketching. And now occurred one of those surprises of which I have
found that real life is far more full than any fiction dares to be.
As we passed the artists, I heard one call out to the other, with a
'burr' which I will not attempt to render, having never lived in the
'Black Country':
'You have a true eye for composition; what do you think of this
tree?'
The speaker's remarkable appearance attracted my attention.
'Well,' said I to Sinfi, 'that's the first time I ever saw a painter
shaven and dressed in a coat like a Quaker's.'
Sinfi looked across at the speaker through the curling smoke from my
pipe, gave a start of surprise, and then said: 'So you've never seed
_him_? That's because you're a country Johnny, brother, and don't
know nothink about Londra life.
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