If his brother had been Titian or Correggio he could not have said more.
"Sir," said Mr. Beck, shaking Humphrey's hand warmly, "I am proud indeed to make your acquaintance. I am but a rough man myself, sir, but I respect genius."
"Then," said Humphrey, with admirable presence of mind, "allow me to introduce my brother. Cornelius Jagenal, as you doubtless know, Mr. Beck, is the Poet."
Mr. Beck did not know it, and said so. But he shook hands with Cornelius none the less cordially.
"Sir, I have been knocking about the world, and have not read any poetry since I was a boy. Then I read Alexander Pope. You know Pope, Mr. Jagenal?"
Cornelius smiled, as if he might allow some merit to Pope, though small in comparison with his own.
"I have never met with your poem, Mr. Cornelius Jagenal or your pictures, Mr. Humphrey, but I hope you will now enable me to do so."
"My brother is engaged"—said Cornelius.
"My brother is engaged"—began Humphrey. "Pardon, brother."
"Sit down, gentlemen. Will you take anything? In California, up country, we always begin with a drink. Call for what you please, gentlemen. Sail in, as we say."