"She's awfully pleased at your having promised that Manford would give Michelangelo a leg up if he comes out to try his luck in New York."
"Promised? Well—not quite. But I did say Dexter would do what he could. It seems the only way left of disposing of Michelangelo."
Wyant leaned back, a smile twitching under his moustache. "Yes—that young man's a scourge. And I begin to see why. Did you see his picture in bathing tights with the latest lady?"
Pauline waved away the suggestion. How like Arthur not to realize, even yet, that such things disgusted her!
"Well, he's the best looking piece of human sculpture I've seen since I last went through the Vatican galleries. Regular Apollo. Funny, the Albany Wyants having a hand in turning out a heathen divinity. I was showing the picture to Manford just now, and telling him the fond mother's comment."
Pauline looked up quickly. "Has Dexter been here too?"
"Yes; trying to give me a leg up." He glanced at his bandages. "Rather more difficult, that. I must get it down first—to the floor. But Manford's awfully kind too—it's catching. He wants me to go off with Jim, down to that island of his, and get a fortnight's real sunshine. Says he can get Jim off by a little wirepulling, some time just before Easter, he thinks. It's tempting—"
Pauline smiled: she was always pleased when the two men spoke of each other in that tone; and certainly it was kind of Dexter to offer the hospitality of his southern island to poor Arthur... She thought how easy life would be if only every one were kind and simple.
"But about Michelangelo: I was going to tell you what is worrying Amalasuntha. Of course what she means by Michelangelo's going into business in America is marrying an heiress—"
"Oh, of course. And I daresay he will."