"I don't think you feel like painting this morning," he observed, "and
I'll come in again. I'll leave you to think over what I have said."
Fenton rose also, regarding him with fierce, level eyes.
"And suppose," he said, "that I call you a damned scoundrel, and forbid
you ever to set foot in my studio again?"
The other laughed, with the easy assurance of a bully who feels himself
secure.
"Oh, you won't," he replied. "If you did,--well, I am on the committee
for the new statue, and have to see Herman now and then you know, and I
should, perhaps, ask him why his wife poses for you. Good morning."
And with a chuckling laugh, he took himself out.
VIII
A NECESSARY EVIL.
Julius Caesar; ii.--2.
"Oh, I assure you that my temper has been such for a week that my
family have threatened to have me sent to a nervine asylum," Ethel Mott
observed to Fred Rangely, who was calling on her, ostensibly to inquire
after her health, some trifling indisposition having kept her housed
for a few days. "What with my cold and my vexation at losing things I
wanted to go to, I have been positively unendurable."
"That's your way of looking at it," he responded; "but I hardly fancy
that anybody else found it out. But what has there been to lose, except
the Throgmorton ball?"
"Well, first there was the concert Saturday night.
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