"But—but," asked Samuel, "what are you doing here?"
"We're stopping here," said George. "I've come down to look out for some work—modelling, or anything I can get hold of. I shall begin a round of the manufacturers this afternoon. We shall stay here till I can find furnished rooms, or a cheap house. It's all up with sculpture now, you know."
"Why! I thought you were doing excellently. That medal—"
"Yes. In reputation. But it was just now that I wanted money for a big job, and—and—well, I couldn't have it. So there you are. Seven years wasted. But, of course, it was better to cut the loss. I never pretend that things aren't what they are. Mind you, I'm not blaming you, uncle. You're no doubt hard up like other people."
"But—but," Samuel began stammering again. "Why didn't you come straight to me—instead of here?"
George put on a confidential look.
"The fact is," said he, "Mary wouldn't. She's vexed. You know how women are. They never understand things—especially money."
"Vexed with me?"
"Yes."
"But why?" Again Samuel felt like a culprit.