I'll call up Westcott.

The old gladiator!" Somehow he turned his sniffle to a snort.

"What in thunder does she want to be painted for anyway?
She's got a nose like a triangle and the composition of her face is all wrong." He blinked away the wetness on his lashes and wondered why, with every other chair in the studio clear, Kenny should make a point of the littered two.

But he did not ask.

Instead he entered upon a period of fruitless and agitated trotting that lasted until Kenny came hack from the garage with Garry's car.