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rest his eyesfor a moment on her face, that was bright with living warmth,and he returned gladly to his work.　　"I can do my best things when you sit there in yourrocking-chair, mother," he said.　　"I'm sure!" she exclaimed, sniffing with mock scepticism. But she felt it was so, and her heart quivered with brightness. For many hours she sat still, slightly conscious of him labouring away,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],whilst she worked or read her book. And he,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], with all his soul'sintensity directing his pencil,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], could feel her warmth inside himlike strength. They were both very happy so, and both unconsciousof it. These times, that meant so much,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and which were real living,they almost ignored.　　He was conscious only when stimulated. A sketch finished,he always wanted to take it to Miriam. Then he was stimulatedinto knowledge of the work he had produced unconsciously. In contact with Miriam he gained insight; his vision went deeper. From his mother he drew the life-warmth, the strength to produce;Miriam urged this warmth into intensity like a white light.　　When he returned to the factory the conditions of work were better. He had Wednesday afternoon off to go to the Art School--Miss Jordan's provision--returning in the evening. Then the factoryclosed at six instead of eight on Thursday and Friday evenings.　　One evening in the summer Miriam and he went over the fieldsby Herod's Farm on their way from the library home. So it wasonly three miles to Willey Farm. There was a yellow glow over themowing-gra
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