Richmond did not conceal his disgust with what seemed to him an exhibition of youthful egotism bordering on impertinence. Beatrice, eager for her father to get a favorable impression, looked woefully depressed. “You misunderstood me, Mr. Wade,” said he, resuming the Mr. to indicate his disapproval. “I did not offer you the commission.” “And I didn’t accept it,” said Roger, laughing. “So, there’s no harm done. Let me give you some chocolate.” “Thanks, no. We are going.” And the financier rose. “Come along, Beatrice.” The girl, pale, crestfallen, half rose, and reseated herself, looked appealingly at Roger, who seemed not to see, then stood. “When can we see the picture?” she asked, casting desperately about for an excuse for lingering. “We don’t want to see it at all,” her father put in, with a jovial, sardonic laugh that revealed unpleasantly his strong, sallow, crowded teeth. “Mr. Wade needn’t bother to complete it. I’ll send him a check for whatever you settled as the price----” “Father!” gasped Beatrice despairingly. Then, to Roger, with a nervous attempt at a lively smile: “He doesn’t mean it. He’s simply joking.” “Your father and I understand each other,” said Roger tranquilly. “The picture’ll be done in a few days. I’ll send it to Red Hill immediately. I always like to get a finished job out of the place. I’ve got a terrible habit of tinkering as long as a thing’s within reach. As for the check”--he smiled pleasantly at Richmond, who looked--and felt--small and shriveled before the large candor of the artist’s expression--“your daughter is a poor business woman. She forgot to make a bargain. So it lies between your generosity and mine.” Roger made a courtly bow, with enough mockery in it to take away affectation. “I’m sure mine will come nearer the value of the picture. I’ll make you a present of it--with my compliments.” “Can’t permit it!” said Richmond angrily. But Roger remained suave. “I don’t see how you’re going to help yourself,” said he. “I can send it back to you as often as you return it to me, and if you can refuse to take it in, why, so can I. You can’t make me ridiculous without my making you ridiculous also. You see, you’re in my power, Mr. Richmond.” All this with the utmost good humor and friendliness. Richmond could think of nothing to say but a repetition of his curt “Can’t permit it!” He glanced in the direction of his daughter, jerked his head toward the door. “Come along, child. Good day, sir.” Roger’s expression, from the height of his tall figure, was so compelling that he put out his hand, which Roger took and shook with the cordiality of a host to whom any guest is inviolable.