A Comedy of Masks: A NovelDowson, Ernest Christopher
General
A Comedy of Masks: A Novel
Dowson, Ernest Christopher
Fiction
"Oh, it's much as usual--perhaps a little more so! Bullen continues
to threaten me with bankruptcy, but I am getting used to it.
Threatened men live long, you know."
"Oh, you're all right!" answered Dick genially. "As long as Bullen
looks after you, you won't come to grief."
While the two were thus occupied in reuniting the chain of old
associations, Oswyn had been silently, almost surreptitiously,
preparing for departure; and he now came forward awkwardly, with his
hat in one hand and the tools of his trade under his arm.
"May I leave some of these things, here, or will they be in your
way?"
"But you're not going?" said Rainham, rising from his seat with a
constraining gesture; "why, don't you remember we were going to dine
together? Dick will stay too, _n'est ce pas_? It will be like old
times. Mrs. Bullen has been preparing quite a feast, I assure you!"
Oswyn paused irresolutely.
"Don't let me drive you away," said Dick. "In any case I'm going
myself in a few minutes. Yes," he added, turning to Rainham, "I'm
very sorry, but I've got to take my wife out to dinner, and I shall
have to catch a train in, let me see, about ten minutes."
"Really? Well, then, clearly you must sit down again, Oswyn; I won't
be left alone at any price. That's right. Now, Dick, tell me what
you have been doing, and especially all about your Academy picture;
I haven't seen even a critique of it. Of course it's a success? Have
you sold it?"
"Oh, spare my modesty!" protested Lightmark somewhat clumsily, with
a quick glance at Oswyn. "It's all right, but we mustn't talk shop."
"Yes, for God's sake spare his modesty!" supplemented the other
painter almost brutally. "Look at his blushes. It isn't so bad as
all that, Lightmark."
"I don't even know the subject," pursued Rainham. "You might at
least tell me what it was. Was it the canvas which you wouldn't show
me, just before I went away--at the studio? The one about which you
made such a mystery----?"
"Oh bosh, old man!" interrupted Dick hurriedly, "I never made any
mystery. It--it wasn't that. It's quite an ordinary subject, one of
the river scenes which I sketched here. You had better go and see
it. And come and see us. You know the address. I must be off!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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