that knows me. That'll do; that'll do! Now then, what's going to be
your line of action?'

Fenwick turned on him a face that vainly endeavoured to hide the joy
of its owner.

'I shall look out, of course, first of all, for some bread-and-butter
work. I shall go to the editors of the illustrated papers and show
them some things. I shall attend some life-school in the evenings. And
the rest of the time I shall paint--paint like Old Harry!'

The words caused a momentary wrinkling of Mr. Morrison's brow.

'I should avoid those expressions, if I were you, Fenwick. But paint
what, my dear boy?--paint what?'

'Of course I have my ideas,' said Fenwick, staring at the floor.

'I think I have earned a right to hear them.'

'Certainly. I propose to combine the colour and romance of the
Pre-Raphaelites with the truth and drawing of the French school,' said
the young man, suddenly looking up.

Surprise betrayed his companion into a broad grin.

'Upon my word, Fenwick, you won't fail for lack of ambition!'

The young man reddened, then quietly nodded.