"
"Better keep on missing 'em." Hunt regarded him intently for a moment,
then asked abruptly: "Never heard one way or another--but did you use
that telephone number I gave you?"
"Yes."
"Miss Sherwood take care of you?"
"Yes."
"Still there?"
"Yes."
Again Hunt was silent for a moment. Larry expected questions about
Miss Sherwood, for he knew the quality of the painter's interest. But
Hunt seemed quite as determined to avoid any personal question
relating to Miss Sherwood as she had been about personal questions
relating to him; for his next remark was:
"Young fellow, still keeping all those commandments you wrote for
yourself?"
"So far, my bucko."
"Keep on keeping 'em, and write yourself a few more, and you'll have a
brand-new decalogue. And we'll have a little Moses of our own. But in
the meantime, son, what's the great idea of coming down here?"
"For one thing, I came to ask for a couple of your paintings."
"My paintings!" Hunt regarded the other suspiciously. "What the hell
you want my paintings for?"
"They might make good towels if I can scrape the paint off."
"Aw, cut out the vaudeville stuff! I asked you what you wanted my
paintings for? Give me a straight answer!"
"All right--here's your straight answer: I want your paintings to sell
them.
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