"Dear me, what did you expect?"
"Truly," said Rowland to himself, "what did I expect?"
"I confess," cried Singleton, "I can't judge him rationally. He
fascinates me; he 's the sort of man one makes one's hero of."
"Strictly speaking, he is not a hero," said Rowland.
Singleton looked intensely grave, and, with almost tearful eyes, "Is
there anything amiss--anything out of the way, about him?" he timidly
asked. Then, as Rowland hesitated to reply, he quickly added, "Please,
if there is, don't tell me! I want to know no evil of him, and I think
I should hardly believe it. In my memories of this Roman artist-life,
he will be the central figure. He will stand there in radiant relief, as
beautiful and unspotted as one of his own statues!"
"Amen!" said Rowland, gravely. He remembered afresh that the sea is
inhabited by big fishes and little, and that the latter often find their
way down the throats of the former. Singleton was going to spend the
afternoon in taking last looks at certain other places, and Rowland
offered to join him on his sentimental circuit. But as they were
preparing to leave the church, he heard himself suddenly addressed from
behind.
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