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Updated: June 28, 2025
He felt horribly sick. It had never struck him that Foinet would wish to see his things there and then; he meant, so that he might have time to prepare himself, to ask him if he would mind coming at some future date or whether he might bring them to Foinet's studio. He was trembling with anxiety.
"All my friends know they have talent, but I am aware some of them are mistaken." Foinet's bitter mouth outlined the shadow of a smile, and he asked: "Do you live near here?" Philip told him where his studio was. Foinet turned round. "Let us go there? You shall show me your work." "Now?" cried Philip. "Why not?" Philip had nothing to say. He walked silently by the master's side.
Luckily enough the next morning was one of Foinet's days, and he resolved to ask him point-blank whether it was worth his while to go on with the study of art. He had never forgotten the master's brutal advice to Fanny Price. It had been sound. Philip could never get Fanny entirely out of his head.
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