``No,'' laughed King, ``but you told us that this was your first
visit East, and yet you're talking about England and Vienna and
Voisin's. How is it you've been there, while you have never been
in New York?''

``Well, that's partly due to accident and partly to design,''
Clay answered. ``You see I've worked for English and German and
French companies, as well as for those in the States, and I go
abroad to make reports and to receive instructions. And then I'm
what you call a self-made man; that is, I've never been to
college. I've always had to educate myself, and whenever I did
get a holiday it seemed to me that I ought to put it to the best
advantage, and to spend it where civilization was the furthest
advanced--advanced, at least, in years. When I settle down and
become an expert, and demand large sums for just looking at the
work other fellows have done, then I hope to live in New York,
but until then I go where the art galleries are biggest and where
they have got the science of enjoying themselves down to the very
finest point. I have enough rough work eight months of the year
to make me appreciate that. So whenever I get a few months
to myself I take the Royal Mail to London, and from there to
Paris or Vienna. I think I like Vienna the best. The directors
are generally important people in their own cities, and they ask
one about, and so, though I hope I am a good American, it happens
that I've more friends on the Continent than in the United
States.''

``And how does this strike you?'' asked King, with a movement of
his shoulder toward the men about the dismantled table.