"Is he still interested in Miss Hannaford?"
"Why, of course! He's one of the stupids who keep up that kind of
thing for a lifetime. But 'he that will not when he may'! Poor silly
fellow! How I should enjoy boxing his ears!"
They laughed, but Miss Bonnicastle seemed very much in earnest.
"He's tormenting his silly self," she went on, "because he has been
unfaithful to her. There was a girl in Paris. Oh, he tells me
everything! We're good friends. The girl over there did him enormous
good, that's all I know. It was she that set him to work, and
supplied him with his model at the same time! What better could have
happened. And now the absurd creature has qualms of conscience!"
"Well," said Piers, smiling uneasily, "it's intelligible."
"Bosh! Don't be silly! A man has his work to do, and he must get
what help he can. I shall pack him off back to Paris."
"I'll go and see him, I think. About the Italian, Florio. Has he
also an interest?"
"In Olga? Yes, I fancy he has, but I don't know much about him. He
comes and goes, on business. There's a chance, I think, of his
dropping in for money before long. He isn't a bad sort--what do
you think?"
That same afternoon Piers went in search of Kite's garret. It was a
garret literally, furnished with a table and a bed, and little else,
but a large fire burned cheerfully, and on the table, beside a
drawing-board, stood a bottle of wine.
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