"Of course I see that—that your engagement at your own variety-show, with its interminable 'turns,' keeps you from going to the others. Learn then," said Gabriel Nash, "that you've a great competitor and that you're distinctly not, much as you may suppose it, the rising comedian. The Tragic Muse is the great modern personage. Haven't you heard people speak of her, haven't you been taken to see her?"
Nick bethought himself. "I daresay I've heard of her, but with a good many other things on my mind I had forgotten it."
"Certainly I can imagine what has been on your mind. She remembers you at any rate; she repays neglect with sympathy. She wants," said Nash, "to come and see you."
"'See' me?" It was all for Nick now a wonder.
"To be seen by you—it comes to the same thing. She's really worth seeing; you must let me bring her; you'll find her very suggestive. That idea that you should paint her—she appears to consider it a sort of bargain."
"A bargain?" Our young man entered, as he believed, into the humour of the thing. "What will she give me?"
"A splendid model. She is splendid."
"Oh then bring her," said Nick.