“A dangerous experiment. Is he much impressed by classical art?”
“Very much indeed; he believes in nothing else, he says.”
The sculptor frowned.
“That means he will try to stand on tip-toe for a month or two instead of flying. However, he will get tired of that. He will soon learn that the only real art is realism.”
“He says that a sculptor out there called Manvers is always impressing that on him.”
“Manvers? Well, no one ever accused Manvers of not being a realist. That is about the only crime he has never been suspected of. Manvers is extremely talented, but he has not a touch of genius. However, for diabolical cleverness in his work he can’t be touched. On the other hand, any tendency in Carlingford to idealism might be encouraged by Manvers indirectly. He would find it impossible, if he had leanings that way, not to have his bias strengthened by anything so rampantly realistic as Manvers’ work.”
“Tom Carlingford is coming back to England in a few weeks.”
“I’m glad of that. The future is in his own hands.”
CHAPTER VIII.
Manvers’ good intention of taking a holiday had presumably gone to pave the worst of roads, for before a fortnight was up he was working hard at the new statuette. The solid ingot of inspiration which had been tossed in his path was only slightly responsible for this; the burden of it lay with Maud Wrexham.