“A man’s life consisteth not in the abundance of the things he possesses,” I ventured to say.
“Thank you,” said Percivale. “I hope not. It is well for me it should not.”
“It is well for the richest man in England that it should not,” I returned. “If it were not so, the man who could eat most would be the most blessed.”
“There are people, even of my acquaintance, however, who seem to think it does.”
“No doubt; but happily their thinking so will not make it so even for themselves.”
“Have you been very busy since you left us, Mr. Percivale?” asked Wynnie.
“Tolerably,” he answered. “But I have not much to show for it. That on the easel is all. I hardly like to let you look at it, though.”
“Why?” asked Wynnie.
“First, because the subject is painful. Next, because it is so unfinished that none but a painter could do it justice.”
“But why should you paint subjects you would not like people to look at?”