XVII
TEMPERAMENT
A talented young painter, who was just beginning to make his mark, drifted into my studio one day and threw himself into a chair in gloomy silence. He smoked morosely for five minutes, while I went on with my painting. Finally he broke the silence. "Have I told you," he said, "that I mean to give up art, to quit the whole bally business? Well! it is a fact. I have had the offer of an excellent berth in my father's office, and I am going to accept it."
"Why! why!" I cried, "what is all this coil?"
"That is precisely what I am unable to explain," he replied. "I have simply
[178]
