you!"

He had opened the magazine so as to display an illustration,
entitled "Sanctuary," and stated to be after a painting by Norbert
Franks.

"Isn't it good? Doesn't it come out well?--deuce take you, why
don't you speak?"

"Not bad--for a photogravure," said Warburton, who had the air of
a grave elder in the presence of this ebullient youth.

"Be hanged! We know all about that. The thing is that it's _there_.
Don't you feel any surprise? Haven't you got anything to say? Don't
you see what this means, you old ragamuffin?"

"Shouldn't wonder if it meant coin of the realm--for your shrewd
dealer."

"For me too, my boy, for me too! Not out of this thing, of course.
But I've arrived, I'm _lance_, the way is clear! Why, you don't seem
to know what it means getting into _The Art World_."

"I seem to remember," said Warburton, smiling, "that a month or two
ago, you hadn't language contemptuous enough for this magazine and
all connected with it."

"Don't be an ass!" shrilled the other, who was all this time
circling about the little room with much gesticulation. "Of course
one talks like that when one hasn't enough to eat and can't sell a