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Updated: June 25, 2025
Her dress, according to the Whistlerian phrase just coming into vogue, might have been called an 'arrangement in white. The basis of it seemed to be white velvet; and breast and hair were powdered with diamonds delicately set in old flower-like shapes. 'You are in the same house with Mr. Cuningham? she asked, when a dean had said grace and the soup was served.
Lady Findon would, I'm sure, be glad to make your acquaintance. St. James's Square 102. All right' as Fenwick, colouring violently, stammered an acceptance 'we shall expect you. Aurevoir! I'm afraid it's no good to ask you! The last words were addressed smilingly to Watson, as Lord Findon, with outstretched hand, passed through the door, which Cuningham opened for him.
'Is this the sort of thing you're going to do? he said, looking up, and involuntarily his eye glanced towards his own picture on the distant easel. Fenwick smiled. 'That's only for practice. I want to do big things romantic things if I get the chance. 'What a delightful subject! said Cuningham, stooping suddenly over the book.
Watson, it appeared, had been seized with hemorrhage at Marseilles, and had thereupon given up his winter plans, and crawled home to London, as soon as he was sufficiently recovered to bear the journey. Fenwick, much troubled, protested that it was madness to have come back to the English winter. 'No, said Cuningham, looking grave. 'Better die at home than among strangers.
He's a crank but a good sort lots of money thinks he knows everything about art they all do give him his head when he talks. Fenwick nodded, and followed Cuningham back to the studio, where Lord Findon was now examining Watson's picture with no assistance whatever from the artist, who seemed to have been struck with dumbness.
Well, that makes it more gruesome than ever. Hullo, who's that? Come in! The door opened. A young man, in some embarrassment, appeared on the threshold. 'I believe these letters are yours, he said, offering a couple to Cuningham. 'They brought them up to me by mistake. Philip Cuningham took them with thanks, then scanned the newcomer as he was turning to depart.
Now, however, he was to meet the great world on its own terms; and though he tried hard to disguise his nervousness from his sponsor, Philip Cuningham, he did not succeed. Cuningham instructed him where to buy a second-hand dress-suit that very nearly fitted him, and he had duly provided himself with gloves and tie.
His connexion with Cuningham, in spite of occasional letters, had dropped long ago, ever since that clever Scotch painter had shown himself finally possessed of the usual Scotch power to capture London and a competence. But his liking for Fenwick had never wavered through all the blare of Fenwick's success.
Precious difficult, though, to get away from one's pictures, this time of year, isn't it? He hailed a hansom as he spoke. 'That's not a difficulty that applies to me, said Fenwick, shortly. Cuningham stared frowned and remembered. 'Oh, my dear fellow what a mistake that was! if you'll let me say so. Can't we put it right? Command me at any time. 'Thank you. I prefer it as it is.
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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