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Otter grew rather tired of standing. Clutton did not say anything, but nodded now and then, and Foinet felt with satisfaction that he grasped what he said and the reasons of it; most of them listened to him, but it was clear they never understood. Then Foinet got up and came to Philip. "He only arrived two days ago," Mrs. Otter hurried to explain. "He's a beginner. He's never studied before."
Philip quietly put away the various things which he had shown. "I'm afraid that sounds as if you didn't think I had much chance." Monsieur Foinet slightly shrugged his shoulders. "You have a certain manual dexterity. With hard work and perseverance there is no reason why you should not become a careful, not incompetent painter.
"You're beginning to learn to draw." Clutton did not answer, but looked at the master with his usual air of sardonic indifference to the world's opinion. "I'm beginning to think you have at least a trace of talent." Mrs. Otter, who did not like Clutton, pursed her lips. She did not see anything out of the way in his work. Foinet sat down and went into technical details. Mrs.
She walked past him, out of the studio, and Philip, with a shrug of the shoulders, limped along to Gravier's for luncheon. "It served her right," said Lawson, when Philip told him what had happened. "Ill-tempered slut." Lawson was very sensitive to criticism and, in order to avoid it, never went to the studio when Foinet was coming. "I don't want other people's opinion of my work," he said.
You take all you can get, and you don't even say thank you. I've taught you everything you know. No one else would take any trouble with you. Has Foinet ever bothered about you? And I can tell you this you can work here for a thousand years and you'll never do any good. You haven't got any talent. You haven't got any originality. And it's not only me they all say it.
She always has hated me. She thought after that I'd take myself off. I daresay she'd like me to go. She's afraid I know too much about her." Miss Price told him a long, involved story, which made out that Mrs. Otter, a humdrum and respectable little person, had scabrous intrigues. Then she talked of Ruth Chalice, the girl whom Foinet had praised that morning.
A few days later his uncle expressed the hope that he would spend the next few weeks at Blackstable. "Yes, that will suit me very well," said Philip. "I suppose it'll do if you go back to Paris in September." Philip did not reply. He had thought much of what Foinet said to him, but he was still so undecided that he did not wish to speak of the future.
I wanted to ask you to tell me frankly if you think it worth while for me to continue." Philip's voice was trembling a little. Foinet walked on without looking up. Philip, watching his face, saw no trace of expression upon it. "I don't understand." "I'm very poor. If I have no talent I would sooner do something else." "Don't you know if you have talent?"
He had worked very hard, it would be too cruel if all that industry were futile. And then with a start he remembered that he had heard Fanny Price say just that. They arrived at the house, and Philip was seized with fear. If he had dared he would have asked Foinet to go away. He did not want to know the truth. They went in and the concierge handed him a letter as they passed.
I'm so frightfully nervous." She looked at Foinet, who was coming towards them with Mrs. Otter. Mrs. Otter, meek, mediocre, and self-satisfied, wore an air of importance. Foinet sat down at the easel of an untidy little Englishwoman called Ruth Chalice.
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