nude art painting

nude art painting
fine art painting landscape
art painting gallery
art deco painting
Before her, in a slight depression, were the remains of a village. She had, in fact, reached Flintcomb-Ash, the place of Marian's sojourn. There seemed to be no help for it; hither she was doomed to come. The stubborn soil around her showed plainly enough that the kind of labour in demand here was of the roughest kind; but it was time to rest from searching, and she resolved to stay, particularly as it began to rain. At the entrance to the village was a cottage whose gable jutted into the road, and before applying for a lodging she stood under its shelter, and watched the evening close in. ¡¡¡¡`Who would think I was Mrs Angel Clare!' she said. ¡¡¡¡The wall felt warm to her back and shoulders, and she found that immediately within the gable was the cottage fireplace, the heat of which came through the bricks. She warmed her hands upon them, and also put her cheek - red and moist with the drizzle - against their comforting surface. The wall seemed to be the only friend she had. She had so little wish to leave it that she could have stayed there all night.