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Updated: May 24, 2025
When at last he descended the stairs, he felt as though he were just escaped from a wrestling-match. He followed Cuningham into the omnibus with nerves all on edge. He hated the notion, too, of taking an omnibus to go and dine in St. James's Square. But Cuningham's Scotch thriftiness scouted the proposal of a hansom. On the way Fenwick suddenly asked his companion whether there was a Lady Findon.
According to Cuningham's information, it was now three years since a separation had been arranged between Madame de Pastourelles and her husband, Comte Albert de Pastourelles, owing to the Comte's outrageous misconduct. Lord Findon had no doubt taken her abroad after the catastrophe. And, besides her father, Welby had also been near, apparently watching over her?
Fenwick triumphantly believed that Lord Findon greatly preferred his work and even, by now, his conversation to Cuningham's. But he was still envious of Cuningham's smooth tact, and agreeable, serviceable ways. As to Welby and his place in the Findon circle, that was another matter altogether.
'Does he ever sell? said Lord Findon, in Cuningham's ear, nodding towards the broad shoulders and black head of Watson just in front. 'Not often, said Cuningham, after a pause. 'How, then, does he afford himself? said the other, smiling. 'Oh! he has means just enough to keep him from starving. He's a dear old fellow! He has too many ideas for this wicked world.
'The old fellow seems to be as fit as ever. But Madame de Pastourelles must be very much changed. Fenwick said nothing. It might have been thought that the traffic prevented his hearing Cuningham's remark. But he had heard distinctly. 'Do you know when they'll be home? he asked, reluctantly, walking beside the hansom. 'No haven't an idea. I believe I'm to go to them for Easter. Ah! now we go on.
'But I suppose ladies never say quite what they mean. 'Oh yes, they do. Well, then, I am not much enamoured of Mr. Cuningham's pictures. I like him, and my father likes his painting. 'Lord Findon admires that kind of thing? 'Besides a good many other kinds. Oh! my father has a dreadfully catholic taste. He tells me you haven't been abroad yet? Fenwick acknowledged it.
'You're in this house, too? Have you anything you'd let me see? Fenwick, flushed and stammering, begged him to walk upstairs. Cuningham's puzzled impression was that he gave the invitation reluctantly, but could not make up his mind not to give it. They marched upstairs, Lord Findon and Cuningham behind.
Fenwick explained, but with fresh annoyance. The papers had been full enough of this venture on which he was engaged; Cuningham's ignorance offended him. 'Ah, indeed very interesting, said Cuningham, vaguely. 'Well, good-bye. I must jump into a hansom. 'Where are you off to? 'The Goldsmiths' Company are building a new Hall, and they want my advice about its decoration.
A pleasant, serviceable ability was stamped on Cuningham's whole aspect; while Watson's large, lounging way, and dishevelled or romantic good looks suggested yet another perennial type the dreamer entangled in the prose of life. He looked at the picture which Cuningham turned towards him his hands thrust into the vast pockets of his holland coat.
Then Phoebe should appear, and smile down astonishment. His gaucherie should be lost in his success. He tossed about that night, sleepless, and thinking of Cuningham's two hundred and fifty pounds for a picture so cheaply, commonly clever. It filled him with the thirst to arrive. He had more brains, more drawing, more execution more everything! than Cuningham.
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