War. Well, you've spoiled my picture. I shall go home and scrape my canvas to the bone.
Ger. On second thoughts, I will show you my Psyche. (Uncovers the clay. WAR. stands in admiration. Enter WATERFIELD by same door.)
Wat. Ah, Warren! here you are before me! Mr. Gervaise, I hope I see you well.
War. Mr. Waterfield—an old friend of yours, Gervaise, I believe.
Ger. I cannot appropriate the honour.
Wat. I was twice in your studio at Rome, but it's six months ago, Mr. Gervaise. Ha! (using his eye-glass) What a charming figure! A Psyche! Wings suggested by—Very skilful! Contour lovely! Altogether antique in pose and expression!—Is she a commission?
Ger. No.
Wat. Then I beg you will consider her one.
Ger. Excuse me; I never work on commission—at least never in this kind. A bust or two I have done.
Wat. By Jove!—I should like to see your model!—This is perfect. Are you going to carve her?