I’m sure you would, Mr. Wentworth. You’ve always been interested in art, haven’t you?
Yes indeed. Of course I have been very busy, until lately. But I always followed the best English magazines.
My husband’s upstairs getting the paint off his hands. He will be down in a minute. Then we’ll have some tea.
You don’t paint, do you, Silvia? I may call you Silvia, may I not?
Of course. No, I don’t paint. I just fly around amongst the artists and see what’s going on. Are you staying in Paris very long?
A couple of weeks more, at least. I am revelling in the galleries and museums here.
Here comes Joe. Joe, I want you to meet my cousin, Mr. Wentworth. Mr. Wentworth—Mr. Carson.
Very glad to meet you, Mr. Wentworth.
It’s a great pleasure for me to meet a real artist, Mr. Carson.
Excuse me a moment. I’ll bring on the tea.
Oh, as for that—I’m working along. Sometimes I hit it—
Ars longa, vita brevis you know! I want to see your pictures very much. I was just telling Silvia how I delight in the Louvre. I go there with a class for lectures every morning. I suppose you often copy the old masters?
Copy the old masters? I should say not. I’m not out to be a camera. It’s all I can do to work out my own impressions.
Oh, I see. But—
The tea’s ready. Joe, bring up that chair for Mr. Wentworth. Mr. Wentworth, do you take cream and sugar?
MR. WENTWORTH If you please. Yes, two lumps. There’s nothing like the atmosphere of a studio, is there? I love it. I feel I have missed so much. Still, the instinct for beauty, fragile as it is, does persist.... I was surprised to feel so many of my old emotions awake on coming to Paris. So much that hasn’t been real to me for years! I have gained much inspiration for planning my new house.