'I don't know what days you mean.'
'When I knew him in Paris—ages ago. He was a pupil of the École des Beaux Arts. He was studying architecture.'
'Well, he is studying it still,' said Grace Mavis.
'Hasn't he learned it yet?'
'I don't know what he has learned. I shall see.' Then she added: 'Architecture is very difficult and he is tremendously thorough.'
'Oh, yes, I remember that. He was an admirable worker. But he must have become quite a foreigner, if it's so many years since he has been at home.'
'Oh, he is not changeable. If he were changeable——' But here my interlocutress paused. I suspect she had been going to say that if he were changeable he would have given her up long ago. After an instant she went on: 'He wouldn't have stuck so to his profession. You can't make much by it.'
'You can't make much?'
'It doesn't make you rich.'
'Oh, of course you have got to practise it—and to practise it long.'