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Just for an instant I had succeeded in meeting Mr. Rawlence's eye. I had very much wanted to show him something, as, for example, that I would gladly do anything he liked, even to the extent of allowing him to trample all over me if only I had been a free agent.

But, upon the whole, there was a more subtle joy in the enunciation of certain other remarks, supposed to come from somebody else: 'I met Mr. Freydon, Mr. Nicholas Freydon, you know, this afternoon. He had looked in at Rawlence's studio in Macquarie Street. In fact, I believe he stayed there to dinner before going on to his rooms at North Shore.

Rawlence's expense; to poke fun at the well-to-do gentleman approaching middle age, who clung to the pretence of being a working artist, and to avoid criticism, or because more mature workers would not seek his society, liked to surround himself with neophytes a Triton among minnows.

Rawlence's sketch a strong, short-sleeved shirt of hard, grey woollen stuff, a dilapidated waistcoat, a belt, my little book of bush flowers and trees, and my one-pound note. Oh, and an ancient grey felt hat with a large hole in the crown of it. That was all; but I dare say notable careers have been started upon less; in cash, if not in clothing.

Rawlence certainly does get all the most interesting people at his place. Landon, the painter, was deep in conversation with Mr. Freydon. No, I don't know what Mr. Freydon does some secretarial appointment, I fancy. He's evidently a great friend of Rawlence's. It is surprising that I can set these things down with no particular sense of shame.

A few years later, no doubt, I should have been glad to slip the coat on, or fling it over my head. But it did not happen a few years later.... My worshipful adoration of Miss Foster made me neglectful even of Mr. Rawlence's Sunday afternoon receptions.

The visitors were mostly young, rather noticeably young, I thought, in view of the greying hair over Mr. Rawlence's temples; and I felt less and less alarmed as I listened to their talk. In fact, shamelessly disrespectful though the idea was, I found myself, after a while, wondering whether Mr.

Rawlence's kindly hospitality in Macquarie Street nipped that in the bud, substituting for it a kind of twopenny æstheticism, which made me affect floppy neckties and a studied negligence of dress, combined with some neglect of the barber. In these things, as in certain other matters, there were some singular contradictions and inconsistencies in me, and I was distinctly precocious.

Rawlence's studio occasionally mentioned these sketches, and I took great pleasure in them. Incidentally, they added to my hoard at the bank. Mr. Smith, my room-mate at North Shore, had hitherto regarded my newspaper work strictly from a business standpoint; judging it solely by the salary it brought. Suddenly now I found I had touched an unsuspected vein of his character.

I wanted to try over, out loud, one or two such phrases as these: 'I've been dining with an artist friend in Macquarie Street! 'I was saying this afternoon to the editor of the Chronicle' 'I met some delightful people at my friend Mr. Rawlence's studio this afternoon!