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charcoal and stood up.
‘Take my advice, Mademoiselle, try dressmaking.’ He
looked at his watch. ‘It’s twelve. A la semaine prochaine,
messieurs.’
Miss Price gathered up her things slowly. Philip waited
behind after the others to say to her something consolatory.
He could think of nothing but:
‘I say, I’m awfully sorry. What a beast that man is!’
She turned on him savagely.
‘Is that what you’re waiting about for? When I want your
sympathy I’ll ask for it. Please get out of my way.’
She walked past him, out of the studio, and Philip, with
a shrug of the shoulders, limped along to Gravier’s for lun-
cheon.
‘It served her right,’ said Lawson, when Philip told him
what had happened. ‘Ill-tempered slut.’
Lawson was very sensitive to criticism and, in order to
avoid it, never went to the studio when Foinet was coming.
‘I don’t want other people’s opinion of my work,’ he said.
‘I know myself if it’s good or bad.’
‘You mean you don’t want other people’s bad opinion of
your work,’ answered Clutton dryly.
In the afternoon Philip thought he would go to the Lux-
embourg to see the pictures, and walking through the
garden he saw Fanny Price sitting in her accustomed seat.
He was sore at the rudeness with which she had met his
well-meant attempt to say something pleasant, and passed
as though he had not caught sight of her. But she got up at
once and came towards him.

1 Of Human Bondage