them at home. Perhaps they will when they
settle down. A portrait-tour of a dozen country-houses for the autumn
and winter--what do you say to that for the ardent life? I know I
excruciate you," Nick added, "but don't you see how it's in my interest
to try how much you'll still stand?"

Gabriel puffed his cigarette with a serenity so perfect that it might
have been assumed to falsify these words. "Mrs. Dallow will send for
you--_vous allez voir ca_," he said in a moment, brushing aside all
vagueness.

"She'll send for me?"

"To paint her portrait; she'll recapture you on that basis. She'll get
you down to one of the country-houses, and it will all go off as
charmingly--with sketching in the morning, on days you can't hunt, and
anything you like in the afternoon, and fifteen courses in the evening;
there'll be bishops and ambassadors staying--as if you were a
'well-known,' awfully clever amateur. Take care, take care, for, fickle
as you may think me, I can read the future: don't imagine you've come to
the end of me yet. Mrs. Dallow and your sister, of both of whom I speak
with the greatest respect, are capable of hatching together the most
conscientious, delightful plan for you. Your differences with the
beautiful lady will be patched up and you'll each come round a little
and meet the other halfway. The beautiful lady will swallow your
profession if you'll swallow hers. She'll put up with the palette if
you'll put up with the country-house. It will be a very unusual one in
which you won't find a good north room where you can paint. You'll go
about with her and do all her friends, all the bishops and ambassadors,
and you'll eat your cake and have it, and every one, beginning with your
wife, will forget there's anything queer about you, and everything will
be for the best in the best of worlds; so that, together--you and
she--you'll become a great social institution and every one will think
she has a delightful husband; to say nothing of course of your having a
delightful wife. Ah my dear fellow, you turn pale, and with reason!"
Nash went lucidly on: "that's to pay you for having tried to make me let
you have it. You have it then there! I may be a bore"--the emphasis of
this, though a mere shade, testified to the first personal resentment
Nick had ever heard his visitor express--"I may be a bore, but once in a
while I strike a light, I make things out. Then I venture to repeat,
'Take care, take care.' If, as I say, I r