And that girl is Jan's cousin." "I make a point of never losing my head over a model," declared Kenny with an air.

"It's a hindrance to work.

You concentrate on a type and every picture you do advertises your devotion.

Suppose I married her!" "Heaven help her!" snapped Garry, and went out, slamming the door.
Kenny offended, followed him home.

He felt aggrieved and talkative.
If Kenny had succeeded in propelling himself into one of his nervous ecstasies of inspiration, thereby normalizing his existence to some extent, if Reynolds had not appeared and simplified the painter's credit to a point where he made no further search for unsympathetic models.