“I’m glad to know that,” said Crowdie. “I’ve often thought of it and wondered whether we hadn’t made some mistake.”
Katharine was amused by what the two men said. She had supposed that a famous painter and a well-known writer, who probably did not spend a morning together more than two or three times a year, would talk profoundly of literature and art. But it was interesting, nevertheless, to hear them speak of little incidents which threw a side-light on their former lives.
“Do people who succeed always have such a dreadfully hard time of it?” she asked, addressing the question to both men.
“Oh, I suppose most of them do,” answered Crowdie, indifferently.
“ ‘Jordan’s a hard road to travel,’ ” observed Griggs, mechanically.
“Sing it, Walter—it is so funny!” suggested Hester.
“What?” asked the painter.
“ ‘Jordan’s a hard road’—”
“Oh, I can’t sing and paint. Besides, we’re driving Miss Lauderdale distracted. Aren’t we, Miss Lauderdale?”
“Not at all. I like to hear you two talk—as you wouldn’t to a reporter, for instance. Tell me something more about what you did in Paris. Did you live together?”