“I never know what will come of that painting of yours.”
“Success!” he said jestingly. “And fame and money, and beautiful ladies in furs and diamonds, and carriages and motor-cars, and fine clothes and rings on everybody’s fingers.”
“I would rather have you seated quietly in my kitchen than all the gold of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba,” said Golda.
“Then please like my picture.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Then say you like it.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I shall wipe it out then.”
“Your new friends will like it.”