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."
"Almost, but not quite," replied Sad-Eye Seron, the
painter. He was a skinny man with a gentle face. His
eyebrows drooped at the edges, giving him the perpetually
sad expression that had earned him his nickname. But he
smiled now, enjoying the effect his new painting was
having on the lovely, young barmaid he had courted all
summer long.
"Will it make a lot of money?" asked Kyra hopefully.
Seron's smile vanished. "I sometimes think that you're
the only one who likes my work. Everybody else in Flotsam
says, 'Why buy pictures of things that I can see whenever I
look out my window?' "
"Hey, Kyra," bellowed a patron with an empty mug.
"Am I going to get a refill, or should I just come back there
and pour my own?"
The tavern owner stuck his head out of the kitchen.
"Tend to business," he warned his barmaid.
"All right, I'm going," Kyra said. But she didn't move.
Instead, she shook her head at the magnificent sailing scene
and stood there in admiration of Seron's artistry.
If Seron was an underappreciated painter, the same
could not be said of the pretty picture known as Curly Kyra.
Every unmarried man - and plenty of the married ones - had
hopes of bedding her. She had alabaster skin, bright brown
eyes, and full lips that seemed created expressly for kissing
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