To and fro, back and forth, shuttled these questions. Toward two
o'clock he stood up, mind still absorbed, and mechanically started to
undress. He then observed the roll of paintings Hunt had given him.
Better for them if they were flattened out. Mechanically he removed
string and paper. There on top was the Italian mother he had asked
for. A great painting--a truly great painting. Mechanically he lifted
this aside to see what was the second painting Hunt had included.
Larry gave a great start and the Italian mother went flapping to the
floor.
The second painting was of Maggie; the one on which Hunt had been
working the day Larry had come back: Maggie in her plain working
clothes, looking out at the world confidently, conqueringly; the
painting in which Hunt, his brain teeming with ideas, had tried to
express the Maggie that was, the many Maggies that were in her, and
the Maggie that was yet to be.
CHAPTER XVIII
The next morning Larry tried to force his mind to attend strictly to
Miss Sherwood's affairs. But in this effort he was less than fifty per
cent effective. His experience of the night before had been too
exciting, too provocative of speculation, too involved with what he
frankly recognized to be the major interest of his life, to allow him
to apply himself with perfect and unperturbed concentration to the
day's routine.
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