“Are you alone, then?”
“There's a girl living with me. Don't walk so fast, Dick; you're out of step.”
“Then you noticed it too?”
“Of course I did. You're always out of step.”
“So I am. I'm sorry. You went on with the painting?”
“Of course. I said I should. I was at the Slade, then at Merton's in St. John's Wood, the big studio, then I pepper-potted,—I mean I went to the National,—and now I'm working under Kami.”
“But Kami is in Paris surely?”
“No; he has his teaching studio in Vitry-sur-Marne. I work with him in the summer, and I live in London in the winter. I'm a householder.”
“Do you sell much?”
“Now and again, but not often. There is my 'bus. I must take it or lose half an hour. Goodbye, Dick.”