He confirmed my guess that he had never in his life until he came to Simla sold anything, so that even these small transactions were great things to him, and the earnest of a future upon which he covered his eyes not to gaze too raptly.

He mentioned to me that Kauffer had been asked for his address--who could it possibly be ?--and looked so damped by my humourous suggestion that it was a friend of Kauffer's in some other line who wanted a bill paid, that I felt I had been guilty of brutality.
And all the while the quality of his wonderful output never changed or abated.

Pure and firm and prismatic it remained.

I found him one day at the very end of October, with shining eyes and fingers blue with cold, putting the last of the afternoon light on the snows into one of the most dramatic hill pictures I ever knew him to do.

He seemed intoxicated with his skill, and hummed the 'Marseillaise,' I remember, all the way to Amy Villa whither I accompanied him.
It was the last day of Kauffer's contract; and besides, all the world, secretaries, establishments, hill captains, grass widows, shops, and sundries, was trundling down the hill.