"Oh, I don't see why we shouldn't," he rejoined. "I think we might manage
it."

"At Mrs. Davant's expense?" leaped from Claudia. She could not tell why she
had said it; some inner barrier seemed to have given way under a confused
pressure of emotions.

He looked up at her with frank surprise. "Well, she has been very jolly
about it--why not? She has a tremendous feeling for art--the keenest I
ever knew in a woman." Claudia imperceptibly smiled. "She wants me to let
her pay in advance for the four panels she has ordered for the Memorial
Library. That would give us plenty of money for the trip, and my having the
panels to do is another reason for my wanting to go abroad just now."

"Another reason?"

"Yes; I've never worked on such a big scale. I want to see how those old
chaps did the trick; I want to measure myself with the big fellows over
there. An artist ought to, once in his life."

She gave him a wondering look. For the first time his words implied a sense
of possible limitation; but his easy tone seemed to retract what they
conceded. What he really wanted was fresh food for his self-satisfaction:
he was like an army that moves on after exhausting the resources of the
country.

Womanlike, she abandoned the general survey of the case for the
consideration of a minor point.

"Are you sure you can do that kind of thing?" she asked.