What a splendid
picture the _Fatima_ was. It was worth some inconvenience to have
achieved such a success, and, after all, he would not be so foolish as
to begrudge the price he must pay for his triumph.
And yet, and yet--He turned back with a movement of impatience toward
that sad, silent figure standing just inside his door. A wave of anger
rose within him. He felt that he had a right to consider himself
aggrieved by her persistent presence. Why must his will, his happiness,
his artistic powers be hampered and thwarted by this woman who was only
fit to serve his art and be laid aside, like his mahl-stick and
palette.
"It seems to me," he burst out, more harshly than ever, "that you might
have had the sense to keep away from here, at least until Herman gets
over his anger."
"But I am going away," she said, "and I came to you for some money."
He stared at her in fresh amazement an instant; then he burst into
derisive laughter.
"Well," he said, "I like that. Why, I'm going to New York myself to-
night, to try to beg enough to keep me out of the poor-house."
"But I can't ask Mr. Herman," Ninitta said, beseechingly.
"In Heaven's name, Ninitta," exclaimed Fenton, "don't be an idiot.
There's no sense in running away. Besides, what are you afraid of?"
"But it might hurt Nino if I stayed," returned poor Ninitta.
Through the bitter watches of the night, she had been saying that over
and over to herself.
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