'Well, have a chair, anyhow,' he said, and took one himself and sat down opposite me, letting his lean brown hands fall between his knees.
'Do you mind,' I said, 'if for a minute I sit still and look round ?' He understood again.
'I haven't brought much,' he said, 'I left pretty near everything in Paris.' 'You have brought a world.' Then after a moment, 'Did you do that ?' I asked, nodding towards a canvas tacked against the wall.

It was the head of a half-veiled Arab woman turned away.
The picture was in the turning away, and the shadow the head-covering made over the cheek and lips.
'Lord, no! That's Dagnan Bouveret.

I used to take my things to him, and one day he gave me that.

You have an eye,' he added, but without patronage.

'It's the best thing I've got.' I felt the warmth of an old thrill.
'Once upon a time,' I said, 'I was allowed to have an eye.' The wine, untasted all those years, went to my head.