“It is not for sale.”
“I tell you I must have it.”
“No—you can have her. I shall keep this.”
Roger was gazing absently at his creation. Richmond, struck by some subtle accent in his words, glanced quickly at him.
“I’ll take it with me—back to Paris,” said Roger, talking aloud to himself.
“When do you go?” asked Richmond abruptly.
“Next week.”
“For the summer?”
“For good,” said Roger, covering the picture.
“I wish you every success,” cried Richmond heartily. “You are an honest, sincere man.”