"Now my good sir, are you going to settle down?" said Cruttendon.
"That's a solid piece of work," said Jacob, standing a canvas on a chair.
"Oh, that I did ages ago," said Cruttendon, looking over his shoulder.
"You're a pretty competent painter in my opinion," said Jacob after a time.
"Now if you'd like to see what I'm after at the present moment," said Cruttendon, putting a canvas before Jacob. "There. That's it. That's more like it. That's …" he squirmed his thumb in a circle round a lamp globe painted white.
"A pretty solid piece of work," said Jacob, straddling his legs in front of it. "But what I wish you'd explain …"
Miss Jinny Carslake, pale, freckled, morbid, came into the room.
"Oh Jinny, here's a friend. Flanders. An Englishman. Wealthy. Highly connected. Go on, Flanders…."
Jacob said nothing.
"It's THAT—that's not right," said Jinny Carslake.