leonardo da vinci self portrait

ng one from another in natures and moods so greatly as they did, they yet formed, bending, a curiously uniform row - automatic, noiseless; and an alien observer passing down the neighbouring lane might well have been excused for massing them as `Hodge'. As they crept along, stooping low to discern the plant, a soft yellow gleam was reflected from the buttercups into their shaded faces, giving them an elfish, moonlit aspect, though the sun was pouring upon their backs in all the strength of noon. ¡¡¡¡Angel Clare, who communistically stuck to his rule of taking part with the rest in everything, glanced up now and then. It was not, of course, by accident that he walked next to Tess. ¡¡¡¡`Well, how are you?' he murmured. ¡¡¡¡`Very well, thank you, sir,' she replied demurely. As they had been discussing a score of personal matters only half-an-hour before, the introductory style seemed a little superfluous. But they got no further in speech just then. They crept and crept, the hem of her petticoat just touching his gaiter, and his elbow sometimes brushing hers. At last the dairyman, who came next, could stand it no longer.