"My ability, such as it is--and that only. It can wait.... No; this means
simply that I must come down from the clouds, plant my feet on solid earth,
and get to work."

"The sentiment is sound," admitted Brentwick, "the practice of it, folly.
Have you stopped to think what part a rising young portrait-painter can
contribute toward the rebuilding of a devastated city?"

"The painting can wait," reiterated Kirkwood. "I can work like other men."

"You can do yourself and your genius grave injustice. And I fear me you
will, dear boy. It's in keeping with your heritage of American obstinacy.
Now if it were a question of money--"

"Mr. Brentwick!" Kirkwood protested vehemently. "I've ample for my present
needs," he added.

"Of course," conceded Brentwick with a sigh. "I didn't really hope you
would avail yourself of our friendship. Now there's my home in Aspen
Villas.... You have seen it?"

"In your absence this afternoon your estimable butler, with commendable
discretion, kept me without the doors," laughed the young man.

"It's a comfortable home. You would not consent to share it with me
until--?"

"You are more than good; but honestly, I must sail to-night. I wanted only
this chance to see you before I left. You'll dine with me, won't you?"