he said, "I can reconcile myself to living with that thing for the rest of my life. I feel it doesn't matter."
"I say," said Archie, "how about that? Wouldn't have brought the thing up if you hadn't introduced the topic, but, speaking as man to man, what the dickens were you up to when I landed on your spine just now?"
"I suppose you thought I had gone off my head?"
"Well, I'm bound to say"
Mr. Brewster cast an unfriendly glance at the picture.
"Well, I had every excuse, after living with that infernal thing for a week!"
Archie looked at him, astonished.
"I say, old thing, I don't know if I have got your meaning exactly, but you somehow give me the impression that you don't like that jolly old work of Art."
"Like it!" cried Mr. Brewster. "It's nearly driven me mad! Every time it caught my eye, it gave me a pain in the neck. To-night I felt as if I couldn't stand it any longer. I didn't want to hurt Lucille's feelings by telling her, so I made up my mind I would cut the damned thing out of its frame and tell her it had been stolen."
"What an extraordinary thing! Why, that's exactly what old Wheeler did."
"Who is old Wheeler?"
"Artist chappie. Pal of mine. His fiancée painted the thing, and, when I lifted it off him, he told her it had been stolen. He didn't seem frightfully keen on it, either."
"Your friend Wheeler has evidently good taste."
Archie was thinking.
