The big sculptor rubbed his big nose reflectively.
"After all," he said, "what is so bad about it, Kelly?"
"Oh, everything."
"No, it isn't. There's something about it that's—different—and interesting—"
"Oh, shut up, John, and fix yourself a drink—"
"Kelly, I'm telling you that it isn't bad—that there's something terribly solid and sincere about this beginning—"
He looked around with a bovine grunt as Sam Ogilvy and Harry Annan came mincing in: "I say, you would-be funny fellows!—come over and tell Kelly Neville that he's got a pretty good thing here if he only has the brains to develop it!"
Neville lighted a cigarette and looked on cynically as Ogilvy and Annan joined Burleson on tiptoe, affecting exaggerated curiosity.
"I think it's rotten," said Annan, after a moment's scrutiny; "don't you, Sam?"
Ogilvy, fists thrust deep into the pockets of his painting jacket, eyed the canvas in silence.