"I'm a playwright," said the other simply.
CHAPTER V
"A playwright," Fairfax repeated softly. If Dearborn had said "Ali Baba," Fairfax would scarcely have been more surprised.
"You must know the Bohemian life here?" he asked, "even possibly know some artists?"
"Well, rather," drawled his companion; "I live among them. I don't know a single chap who isn't doing something, burning the midnight oil or using the daylight in a studio."
As Dearborn spoke, Fairfax, looking at him more observantly, saw something in his countenance that responded to his own feelings.
"What are you over here for, Rainsford?" asked the Westerner.
"I am a sculptor."