“Well, say, listen, Banner,” continued Miss Romero, becoming now aware of the empty cocktail glass as her rival for his attention. “Although, of course, personally I’m just crazy about Edward Williams, what with one thing and another it looks like it’s up to me to get busy moving him some place else. I’ll say the Bay Cities’ll get discouraged with him soon. Avery and me are through with him. I talked to him about him drinking so much and it seemed he’d gotten around to thinking himself an interesting rebellious kinda guy, but I’ll say all his stunts look just maudlin to me; he most always cries, and he always quits before he can put over the interesting rebellious thing he wants to say. Say listen Banner——” Mr. Hope started to attention. “I’m planning to send Edward Williams to China.” “China.... Why, why, why?...” “No, but listen, Banner, do you remember Mr. Leung—Leung Tok Ngo—who was so encouraging about the future of American art in the Orient? He said the Chinese just didn’t begin to appreciate the occidental artistic ideals of today; the man in the street in the Orient, he said, would gape at you if you talked of Cezanne or Pizarro. Of course he took back Benstead’s Portrait of a Naked Broker to his home in Shanghai; but that’s only one, my dear, to a population of four hundred million. Now listen, Banner, I kinda think I’ll make a genuine United States drummer out of this Britisher ... a drummer of ideals, if you get me. Edward Williams is so darn glum—he surely must be an idealist. No real artist that I know has anything on Edward for real bad manners, and bad manners always gets the dilettante. I’m going to send Edward to China with two or three dozen of those studies of mine that didn’t sell at the Rebel’s Show. Leung is in Shanghai and can help him. I tell you I’m through with him. The Orient’s gotter take its turn at him now. I’ll give him expenses one way and commission, and then I quit.... Not that, as I say, I’m not just crazy about Edward Williams personally.” She was very direct. She left Banner Hope and approached Edward. He sat slackly on an arm-chair, arms forward, palms up, as though asking for something. “Say, listen, Edward, what’s your opinion of my pictures?” This much too general opening left no room for the convention of appreciation that the careful Edward had prepared. After some thought he therefore answered, “I think they’re very nice.” Miss Romero shrieked, “Very nice! Oh, Edward, you’re so discouragingly British.” She proceeded to convey to him the politer aspects of his banishment to China. The illusion of usefulness and a certain silliness about the plan attracted Edward, who would have refused an offer of solid travelling employment with a fixed salary. Even before he heard of the commission he said, “Right you are, Rhoda. There’s nothing in the world to stop me going whenever you say.”