With a folly that would be incredible were it not one of the most
common things in amateur stock transactions, the artist had by this
time put the bulk of his little fortune into this wild-cat stock, which
he now held with a desperate determination not to sell below the figure
at which he had purchased. He could so little afford the least loss,
that, with the genuine instinct of the gambler, he trusted to luck, and
ran the risk of utter ruin for the sake of the chance of making a
brilliant stroke, or at least of coming out even. Having made up his
mind to hold on, he clung to the position with his customary obstinacy,
even dismissing the matter, as far as was possible, from his thoughts.
He was very busy preparing an exhibition of pictures at the St. Filipe
club. The matter had been left in his hands by the other members of the
Art Committee, of which he was chairman; but his attitude toward the
club had prevented his taking any steps until after the meeting on
Saturday night. Now, he was particularly anxious to make the exhibition
a brilliant success, to give a signal instance of the value of his
services.
He had gone to his studio on Sunday afternoon and sketched in a head of
Ninitta, and upon this he worked, now and then, with a desperate energy
born of the feeling that it substantiated his story to Edith. He had
been seized with grave doubts as to the advisability of exhibiting the
_Fatima_ just now; but he did not see his way clear to spare so large
and important a picture from the collection, and he comforted himself
with the thought that the face was different, and that if the model
were recognized he would be supposed to have worked up old sketches
taken when Ninitta had posed for him before her marriage.
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