human
Little whack! he murmured.
gpt
Where did she learn the phrase? And how does she know that--Cæsar could not have told her.
human
I wish she had not come, he said;
gpt
She does; she laughed at my epic to-day.
human
And she laughed at my picture.
gpt
She is dangerous, Humphrey.
human
She watches people when they go for a morning walk, Cornelius, and makes allusion to the Carnarvon Arms and to afternoon naps.
gpt
If, Humphrey, we have once or twice been obliged to go to the Carnarvon Arms----
human
Or have been surprised into an afternoon nap, Cornelius----
gpt
That is no reason why we should be ashamed to have the subjects mentioned. I should hope that this young lady would not speak of Us--of You, brother Humphrey, and of Myself--save with reverence.
human
She has no reverence, brother Cornelius.
gpt
Jane certainly tells me, said the Poet,
human
If one could hope that she was actuated only by respect! But no, I hardly dare to think that. Then, I suppose, she brought her visitor to the Studio.
gpt
Brother Humphrey, we always do the same thing at the same time.
human
Humphrey's mind was still running on the want of respect.
gpt
Here it is.
human
resumed the Poet, looking at the sketch.
gpt
The child has a wonderful gift at catching a likeness. If it were not for the annoyance one might feel pleased. The girl is young and pretty. If our years are double what they should be, our hearts are half our years.
human
They are. We cannot be angry with her.
gpt
Impossible.
human
Dear little Phillis! --she was a good inch taller than either of the Twins, who, indeed, were exactly the same height, and it was five feet four--
gpt
Three-per-cents. Fifty thousand pounds--fifteen hundred a year; which is about half what Joseph pays income tax upon. A pleasant income, brother Humphrey.
human
Yes, I dare say. Humphrey tossed the question of money aside.
gpt
You and I, Cornelius, are among the few who care nothing about three-per-cents. What is money to us? what have we to do with incomes? Art, glorious Art, brother, is our mistress. She pays us, not in sordid gold, but in smiles, in gleams of a haven not to be reached by the common herd, in skies of a radiance visible only to the votary's eye.