"I could have told you that yesterday, Carl," he said, smiling, "but you were out when my letter came, and I was so busy over my picture here that I forgot it when you returned."
"The agent wrote to you first then," said Carl. "He might have had the courtesy to drop me a line at the same time."
"Do not blame him too much, Carl," said Leslie Dane. "He was in a hurry about writing to me because he had a letter to inclose from the purchaser of the pictures."
"Another commission, you lucky dog!" exclaimed Carl Muller.
"It amounts to that, I suppose. He wants me to go to Paris and paint his wife's portrait. If I will not go to Paris he will come to Rome."
"If the mountain will not go to Mahomet, then Mahomet must go to the mountain," said Carl.
"Something that way," said Leslie, carelessly.
"You will accept, of course. The old fellow paid such an extravagant price for the pictures that another commission might be a temptation even to you who have lately been surfeited with success."
"The money certainly might be an object, but I think I shall refuse," was the abrupt reply.
"Refuse!" exclaimed Carl, in surprise, "and why, if I may ask?"