She smiled. She had served an apprenticeship in the reading of the artist's heart—the child's heart.
"Yes, monsieur? You will live here?"
"As soon, madame, as it suits you to vacate the appartement."
Again she smiled, gently, indulgently. "And may I ask, monsieur, whether you have ascertained the figure of the rent?"
"No, madame."
"And is not that—pardon me!—a little improvident?"
Max laughed. "Probably, madame! But if it demanded my last franc I would give that last franc with an open heart, so greatly do I desire the place."
The quiet eyes of the woman softened to a gentle comprehension.
"You are an artist, monsieur."
The color leaped into the boy's face, his eyes flashed with triumph.