"
Torpenhow had been moved to lecture Dick more than once lately on the sin of
levity, and Dick and listened and replied not a word. In the weeks between the
first few Sundays of his discipline he had flung himself savagely into his
work, resolved that Maisie should at least know the full stretch of his powers.
Then he had taught Maisie that she must not pay the least attention to any work
outside her own, and Maisie had obeyed him all too well. She took his counsels,
but was not interested in his pictures.
"Your things smell of tobacco and blood," she said once. "Can't you do anything
except soldiers?"
"I could do a head of you that would startle you," thought Dick,--this was
before the red-haired girl had brought him under the guillotine,--but he only
said, "I am very sorry," and harrowed Torpenhow's soul that evening with
blasphemies against Art. Later, insensibly and to a large extent against his
own will, he ceased to interest himself in his own work.
For Maisie's sake, and to soothe the self-respect that it seemed to him he lost
each Sunday, he would not consciously turn out bad stuff, but, since Maisie did
not care even for his best, it were better not to do anything at all save wait
and mark time between Sunday and Sunday.
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