Page 316 - of-human-bondage-

isfied, wore an air of importance. Foinet sat down at the
easel of an untidy little Englishwoman called Ruth Chalice.
She had the fine black eyes, languid but passionate, the thin
face, ascetic but sensual, the skin like old ivory, which under
the influence of Burne-Jones were cultivated at that time by
young ladies in Chelsea. Foinet seemed in a pleasant mood;
he did not say much to her, but with quick, determined
strokes of her charcoal pointed out her errors. Miss Chalice
beamed with pleasure when he rose. He came to Clutton,
and by this time Philip was nervous too but Mrs. Otter had
promised to make things easy for him. Foinet stood for a
moment in front of Clutton’s work, biting his thumb silent-
ly, then absent-mindedly spat out upon the canvas the little
piece of skin which he had bitten off.
‘That’s a fine line,’ he said at last, indicating with his
thumb what pleased him. ‘You’re beginning to learn to
draw.’
Clutton did not answer, but looked at the master with his
usual air of sardonic indifference to the world’s opinion.
‘I’m beginning to think you have at least a trace of tal-
ent.’
Mrs. Otter, who did not like Clutton, pursed her lips.
She did not see anything out of the way in his work. Foinet
sat down and went into technical details. Mrs. Otter grew
rather tired of standing. Clutton did not say anything, but
nodded now and then, and Foinet felt with satisfaction that
he grasped what he said and the reasons of it; most of them
listened to him, but it was clear they never understood.
Then Foinet got up and came to Philip.

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