"
"Well--?"
"So he can't be accused of doing what he does for money--of
sacrificing anything better." She turned on him with troubled eyes.
"It was you who made me understand that, when Caspar used to make
fun of him."
Stanwell smiled. "I'm glad you still think me a better painter than
Mungold. But isn't it hard that for that very reason I should starve
in a hole? If I painted badly enough you'd see no objection to my
living at the Waldorf!"
"Ah, don't joke about it," she murmured. "Don't triumph in it."
"I see no reason to at present," said Stanwell drily. "But I won't
pretend to be ashamed when I'm not. I think there are occasions when
a man is justified in doing what I've done."
She looked at him solemnly. "What occasions?"
"Why, when he wants money, hang it!"
She drew a deep breath. "Money--money? Has Caspar's example been
nothing to you, then?"
"It hasn't proved to me that I must starve while Mungold lives on
truffles!"
Again her face changed and she stirred uneasily, and then rose to
her feet.
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