Suède, which he buttoned carefully. Then, as he drew out a cheque, already signed and filled in, from a gorgeous pocket-book, he said—
"Here is my debt to you. As soon as the portrait is dry, have it packed and sent to me. It shall be exhibited at the Champs de Mars. And about the frieze? I conclude you accept."
Baring swung himself round from the window, against which his head was pressed, and showed a pale, set face.
"Your cheque—for work done—I have no right to refuse," he said; "your commission I do."
"That is not business, Baring. It is foolish to quarrel with your bread-and-butter on this account. We both like the same girl. Well, keep your affaires du cœur and your business transactions separate. Don't let them interfere with each other."
"Monsieur Melchior, I have painted your portrait, and you have paid me. We have nothing further to do with each other. Our acquaintance from this hour ends."
The patron of art raised his eyebrows superciliously, and his red lips curled.
"It is unwise for a man in your position to speak thus to a man in mine, Baring. But, since you will have it so, good morning."
He put on his soft grey hat deliberately as he spoke, and took up his white umbrella. Baring opened the door for him, and bowed. The Jew passed out.
