"A studio tea! Merciful heavens—— Go on."
"Yes, a studio tea. Don't you like them? To be sure, we didn't know whether the man could paint very well, and I suppose you think it is an imposition for anyone who is not a great painter to give a tea."
"Well, he had the dearest little Japanese servants, and some of the cups came from Algiers, and some from Turkey, and some from—— What's the matter?"
"Go on. I'm not interrupting you."
"Well, that's all; excepting that everything was charming in colour, and I thought what a lazy, beautiful life the man must lead, lounging in such a studio, smoking monogrammed cigarettes, and remarking how badly all the other men painted."
"Very fascinating. But——"
"Oh! you are going to ask if he could draw. I'm sure I don't know, but the tea that he gave was charming."
"I was on the verge of telling you something about artist life, but if you have seen a lot of draperies and drunk from a cup of Algiers, you know all about it."
"You, then, were going to make it something very terrible, and tell how young painters struggled, and all that."