"Why shouldn't she say that?
I've proved it!" "Hunt," said Larry evenly, "you are the greatest painter I ever met, but you also have the distinction of being the greatest of all damned fools." "What's that, young fellow ?" "You love Miss Sherwood, don't you?
At least you've the same as told me that in words, and you've told me that in loud-voiced actions every time you've seen her." "Well--what if I do ?" "If you had the clearness of vision that is in the glassy eye of a cold boiled lobster you would see that she feels the same way about you." "See here, Larry"-- all the boisterous quality had gone from Hunt's voice, and it was low-pitched and a bit unsteady--"I don't mind your joshing me about myself or my painting, but don't fool with me about anything that's really important." "I'm not fooling you.

I'm sure Miss Sherwood feels that way." "How do you know ?" "I've got a pair of eyes that don't belong to a cold boiled lobster.

And when I see a thing, I know I see it." "You're all wrong, Larry.

If you'd heard what she said to me less than a year ago--" "You make me tired!" interrupted Larry.

"You two were made for each other.