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I considered Selvin unobtrusive only until the work was boiled in the estate. The workers imported a new, fashionable furnishings. The walls were re-crossed by expensive wood. The dressmakers filmed the measurements for the curtains. I was tired of the incessant crash of driving around, the knocking of hammers and disputes about what will be more beautiful to stand, I moved to the mill. It was warm and nice there.
Left alone, I thought about Vincent. Where is this poor fellow now? Probably, he is in some wretched hut, because his house is sold, and the debts are not paid. Only in the evening he can get out of his shelter to go to visit those who have enough stupidity to invite him. A poor Vincent! He would dance from happiness, if any childless king suddenly thought to adopt him. Again it outdated so that all the honors got to the one who did not appreciate them at all, and not the one who was dreaming about them.
Not that I am very sorry for Vincent. He brought himself all the time in trouble and did it quite skillfully without any assistance. Clear fraud is not a mean with which you can succeed. Now I remembered Vincent, because I felt his presence nearby. I just could not understand what he was doing in the village.