“Or about anything specific—a woman, for example!” He shrugged wearily.
“If you meet a woman and like her, don’t you want to know all there is to know about her?” inquired Barres.
“I should say not!” returned the other with languid contempt. “I don’t wish to know anything at all about her.”
“Well, we differ about that, old top.”
“Religiously. A woman can be only an incidental amusement in one’s career. You don’t go to a musical 93 comedy twice, do you? And any woman will reveal herself sufficiently in one evening.”
“Nice, kindly domestic instincts you have, Trenor.”
“I’m merely fastidious,” returned the other, dropping his cigarette out of the open window. He rose, yawned, took his hat, stick and gloves.
“Bye,” he said languidly. “I’m painting Elsena Helmund this morning.”
Barres said, with good-humoured envy:
“I’ve neither commission nor sitter. If I had, you bet I’d not stand there yawning at my luck.”