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Updated: April 30, 2025
"But you didn't come just to make me envious of Mungold's studio, did you?" And he pushed forward a chair for his visitor. The latter, however, declined it with an affable motion. "Of gourse not, of gourse not but Mr. Mungold is a sensible man. He makes a lot of money, you know." "Is that what you came to tell me?" said Stanwell, still humorously.
It was really, as Shepson said, as good as a Mungold; yet it could never be made to serve the same purpose, because it was the work of a man who knew it was bad art. That at least would have been Caspar Arran's contention poor Caspar, who produced as bad art in the service of the loftiest convictions! The distinction began to look like mere casuistry to Stanwell.
The picture produced a different and less flattering effect on the critics. They gave it, indeed, more space than they had ever before accorded to the artist's efforts, but their estimate seemed to confirm Caspar Arran's forebodings, and Stanwell had perhaps never despised them so little as when he read their comments on his work.
He says we ought to go to a warm climate but how can Caspar leave the group?" "Oh, hang the group let him chuck the order!" cried Stanwell. She looked at him tragically. "The money is spent," she said. He coloured to the roots of his hair. "But ill-health ill-health excuses everything. If he goes away now he will come back good for twice the amount of work in the spring.
He took little interest in any productions save his own, and was moreover disposed to believe that good pictures, like clever criminals, are apt to go unhung. Stanwell therefore thought it unlikely that his portrait of Mrs.
Shepson gave a dry laugh. "Vell, it doesn't sdrike me that you want to now doing this kind of thing, you know!" And he swept a comprehensive hand about the studio. "Ah," said Stanwell, who could not keep a note of flatness out of his laugh. "See here, Mr. Sdanwell, vot do you do it for? If you do it for yourself and the other fellows, vell and good only don't ask me round.
"Well, you can't have everything in this world," replied the youngest Rover with a grin. "I guess football honors will be enough for you this time." "If we win," put in Dick. "I understand Roxley has a splendid eleven this season. They won out at Stanwell yesterday, 24 to 10." "I hear they are heavier than we are," said Tom. "At least ten pounds to the man. That is going to count for something."
Stanwell knew that the Arrans really preferred him to Mungold, but the knowledge only sharpened his envy of the latter, whose friendship could command visible tokens of expression, while poor Stanwell's remained gloomily inarticulate.
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