His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him. She put down the sketch-books and apparatus she had brought with her, pulled out her stool, and sat down. Visiting? Dressed for it, certainly. The boy was right. He not only failed in making any impression, but seemed to increase the difficulties, for after an hour's toil he had broken the nail and slightly bent the iron bar.
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