But here Jane took her own line. "I can't see that you do, considering that they've done nothing for you."
"They've done everything for me," he protested vehemently. "They've made me what I am."
"They didn't take much trouble about it," said Jane.
They squabbled for a while after the manner of boy and girl. At last she cried: "Don't you see I'm proud of you for yourself and not for your silly old parents? What have they got to do with me? And besides, you'll never find them."
"I don't think you know what you're talking about," he said loftily. "It is time we were getting home."
He walked on for some time stiffly, his head in the air, not condescending to speak. She had uttered blasphemy. He would find his parents, he vowed to himself, if only to spite Jane. Presently his ear caught a little sniff, and looking down, saw her dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. His heart softened at once. "Never mind," said he. "You didn't mean it."
"It's only because I love you, Paul," she murmured wretchedly.
"That's all right," he said. "Let us go in here"—they were passing a confectioner's—"and we'll have some jam-puffs."
Paul went to his friend Rowlatt, who had already heard, through one of his assistants who had a friend in the Life School, of the dramatic end of the model's career.
"I quite sympathize with you," Rowlatt laughed. "I've wondered how you stuck it so long. What are you going to do now?"