When they had all finished, Lawrence Cardiff took his elbow off the mantelpiece, changed his cup into his other hand to shake hands, and said, with his quiet, clean-shaven smile, "So you're back!" "Daddy has been hoping you would be here soon," said Miss Cardiff.

"He wants the support of your presence.

He's been daring to enumerate 'Our Minor Artists' in the _Brown Quarterly_, and his position is perfectly terrible.
Already he's had forty-one letters from friends, relatives, and picture-dealers suggesting names he has 'doubtless forgotten.' Poor daddy says he never knew them." "Has he mentioned me ?" asked Kendal, sitting down squarely with his cup of tea.
"He has not." "Then it's in the character of the uncomplaining left-over that I'm wanted, the modest person who waits until he's better.

I refuse to act.

I'll go over to the howling majority." "_You_ will never be a minor artist, Mr.Kendal," ventured Miss Halifax.
"Certainly not.