Stone's way of noticing her had been different. He had approached
in his slightly inconvenient way, as though seeing but one thing in the
whole world.
"You are living by yourself?" he had said. "I shall come and see you."
Made by the Art Critic or by Mr. Purcey, that somewhat strange remark
would have had one meaning; made by Mr. Stone it obviously had another.
Having finished what he had to say, the author of the book of "Universal
Brotherhood" had bowed and turned to go. Perceiving that he saw before
him the door and nothing else, everybody made way for him at once.
The remarks that usually arose behind his back began to be
heard--"Extraordinary old man!" "You know, he bathes in the Serpentine
all the year round?" "And he cooks his food himself, and does his own
room, they say; and all the rest of his time he writes a book!" "A
perfect crank!"
CHAPTER V
THE COMEDY BEGINS
The Art Critic who had smiled was--like all men--a subject for pity
rather than for blame. An Irishman of real ability, he had started life
with high ideals and a belief that he could live with them. He had hoped
to serve Art, to keep his service pure; but, having one day let his acid
temperament out of hand to revel in an orgy of personal retaliation,
he had since never known when she would slip her chain and come home
smothered in mire.
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