Part 45 (2/2)
”Another cigar!” He turned to Arabian.
”Thank you. They are beauties and not too strong.”
”You've got a d.a.m.ned strong const.i.tution if you can say that. You have been like me; you have fortified it by work.”
”I fear not,” he said with a smile. ”I have been a flaneur, an idler.
It has been my great misfortune to have enough money for what I want without working.”
”Like poor me!” said Miss Van Tuyn, feeling suddenly relieved.
”I pity you both!” said Garstin.
And he branched away to literature, to music, to sculpture. Lowering his big voice suddenly he spoke of the bronzes of the Naples Museum, half shutting his eyes till they were two narrow slits, and looking intently at Arabian.
”You have the throat of one of those bronzes,” he said bluntly, ”and should never wear that cursed abomination, a starched linen collar.”
”What is one to do in London?” murmured Arabian, suddenly stretching his brown throat and lifting his strong chin.
”Show it something worth looking at,” said Garstin.
And he returned to the subject of women, and spoke on it so freely and fully that Miss Van Tuyn presently pulled him up. Rather to her surprise he showed unusual meekness under her interruption.
”All right, my girl! I've done! I've done! But I always forget you're not a young man.”
”_Ma foi!_” said Arabian, almost under his breath.
Garstin looked across at him
”She's a Tartar. She'd keep the devil himself in order.”
”He deserves restraint far less than you do,” said Miss Van Tuyn.
”She won't leave me alone,” continued Garstin, flinging one leg over the arm of his easy chair. ”She even attacks me about my painting, says I only paint the rats of the sewers.”
”I never said that,” said Miss Van Tuyn. ”I said you were a painter of the underworld, and so you are.”
”But Mr. d.i.c.k Garstin also paints judges, mademoiselle,” said Arabian.
”Oh, lord! Drop the Mister! I'm d.i.c.k Garstin _tout court_ or I'm nothing. Now, Arabian, you know the reason, part of the reason, why I want to stick you on canvas.”
”You mean because--”
He seemed to hesitate, and touched his little Guardsman's moustache.
”Because you're a jolly fine subject and nothing to do with the darlings that live in the sewers.”
”Ah! Thank you!” said Arabian. ”But you paint judges.”
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