"That's small comfort. Imagine receiving a telegram early in the
morning, when a man's brain is without invention or coherency of
thought! I would that you were back home with your father. I might
sleep o' nights, then."

"I have so little amusement!"

"You work three hours a day and earn more in a week than your father
and I do in a month. Yours is a very unhappy lot."

"I hate the smell of paints; I hate the studio."

"And I suppose you hate your fame?" acridly.

"Bah! that is my card to a living. The people I meet bore me."

"Not satisfied with common folks, eh? Must have kings and queens to
talk to?"

"I only want to live abroad, and you and father will not let
me,"--petulantly.

The music started up, and I heard no more. Occasionally the girl
glanced at me and smiled in a friendly fashion. She was evidently an
artist's model; and when they have hair and color like this girl's, the
pay is good. I found myself wondering why she was bored and why Carmen
had so suddenly lost its charms.

It was seven o'clock when I pushed aside my plate and paid my check. I
calculated that by hustling I could reach Blankshire either at ten or