Erskine, who was a good deal older than I was, and had been listening to me with the amud deference of a man of forty, suddenly put his hand upon my shoulder and said to me, “What would you say about a young man who had a straheory about a certain work of art, believed in his theory, and itted a fery in order to prove it? ”
“Ah! that is quite a different matter, ” I answered.
Erskine remained silent for a few moments, looking at the thihreads of smoke that were rising from his cigarette. “Yes, ” he said, after a pau, “quite different.”
There was something ione of his voice, a slight touch of bitterness perhaps, that excited my curiosity. “Did you ever know anybody who did that? ” I cried.
“Yes, ” he answered, throwing his cigarette into the fire—“a great friend of mine, Cyril Graham. He was very fasating, and very foolish, and very heartless. However, he left me the only legacy I ever received in my life.”
“What was that? ” I exclaimed. Erskine ro from his at, and going over to a tall inlaid et that stood betweewo windows, unlocked it, and came back to where I was sitting, holding in his hand a small panel picture t in an old and somewhat tarnished Elizabethan frame.
Erskine, who was a good deal older than I was, and had been listening to me with the amud deference of a man of forty, suddenly put his hand upon my shoulder and said to me, “What would you say about a young man who had a straheory about a certain work of art, believed in his theory, and itted a fery in order to prove it? ”
“Ah! that is quite a different matter, ” I answered.
Erskine remained silent for a few moments, looking at the thihreads of smoke that were rising from his cigarette. “Yes, ” he said, after a pau, “quite different.”
There was something ione of his voice, a slight touch of bitterness perhaps, that excited my curiosity. “Did you ever know anybody who did that? ” I cried.
“Yes, ” he answered, throwing his cigarette into the fire—“a great friend of mine, Cyril Graham. He was very fasating, and very foolish, and very heartless. However, he left me the only legacy I ever received in my life.”
“What was that? ” I exclaimed. Erskine ro from his at, and going over to a tall inlaid et that stood betweewo windows, unlocked it, and came back to where I was sitting, holding in his hand a small panel picture t in an old and somewhat tarnished Elizabethan frame.