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‘Miss Price dislikes me because I have humour,’ said
Clutton, looking meditatively at his canvas, ‘but she detests
me because I have genius.’
He spoke with solemnity, and his colossal, misshapen
nose made what he said very quaint. Philip was obliged to
laugh, but Miss Price grew darkly red with anger.
‘You’re the only person who has ever accused you of ge-
nius.’
‘Also I am the only person whose opinion is of the least
value to me.’
Miss Price began to criticise what Philip had done. She
talked glibly of anatomy and construction, planes and lines,
and of much else which Philip did not understand. She had
been at the studio a long time and knew the main points
which the masters insisted upon, but though she could
show what was wrong with Philip’s work she could not tell
him how to put it right.
‘It’s awfully kind of you to take so much trouble with me,’
said Philip.
‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ she answered, flushing awkwardly.
‘People did the same for me when I first came, I’d do it for
anyone.’
‘Miss Price wants to indicate that she is giving you the ad-
vantage of her knowledge from a sense of duty rather than
on account of any charms of your person,’ said Clutton.
Miss Price gave him a furious look, and went back to her
own drawing. The clock struck twelve, and the model with
a cry of relief stepped down from the stand.
Miss Price gathered up her things.

0 Of Human Bondage