Part 13 (1/2)
”Did they reward you?”
”No.”
”What was the third picture?”
”Oh, just a girl,” he said carelessly.
”Did they give you a prize for it?”
”Y-yes. Only a mention.”
”Was it a portrait?”
”Yes--in a way.”
”What was it? Just a girl?”
”Yes.”
”Who was she?”
”Oh, just a girl----”
”Was she pretty?”
”Yes. Shall we dance this next----”
”No. Was she a model?”
”She posed----”
Geraldine, lips on the edge of her spread fan, regarded him curiously.
”That is a very romantic life, isn't it?” she murmured.
”What?”
”Yours. I don't know much about it; Kathleen took me to hear 'La Boheme'; and I found Murger's story in the library. I have also read 'Trilby.' Did _you_--were you--was life like that when you studied in the Latin Quarter?”
He laughed. ”Not a bit. I never saw that species of life off the stage.”
”Oh, wasn't there any romance?” she asked forlornly.
”Well--as much as you find in New York or anywhere.”
”Is there any romance in New York?”
”There is anywhere, isn't there? If only one has the instinct to recognise it and a capacity to comprehend it.”
”Of course,” she murmured, ”there are artists and studios and models and poverty everywhere.... I suppose that without poverty real romance is scarcely possible.”