"Not money," Tinker answered, eyes still on Mrs. Stahl.
"Got the 'Mongoloid' bill five years ago, same year as I got Mary." He gave his wife an even more ostentatious squeeze. Smith stared at her, too, but more with dull dissatisfaction than desire. "Fifteen bills in the box now—but I've still only one wife."
"Fifteen!" exclaimed Smith. "The rich get richer and the poor stay poor."
"The wallpaper," Stahl smoothly proceeded, "is a replica of Italian murals. If you adjust your focus properly the flat columns become solids through the art of vanishing-point perspective."
"Excellent period distortion of Greek styles," said Tinker, studying the columns. "And those three chairs are fine copies of Chippendale. You're to be complimented on your taste in everything, Stahl."
"You really know ancient designs," Stahl said. "Genuine old copies are even scarcer than their originals. And originals, of course, can never be quite as good."
"Sometimes I don't see why," Smith muttered.
They all looked shocked. "Smith, you need a checkup," Tinker advised. "You sound rundown. How can we progress without imitating past achievements?"
"A little rundown," Smith admitted, "but.... Oh, let's forget it."
"Let's," Stahl nodded, striving to recapture the pair's attention as they went on through the Suite. "Notice the paintings. Those two are excellent pseudo-Braques and in the last room were fine fakes of Van Gogh, Picasso and Chardin. In fact," he pointed toward a Gauguin-like nude, all flattened sensuousness, "that one's as close to a real Gauguin as an imitation can go without being a mere reproduction."