You are one of those who understand the beauty of unhappiness--in others," he added, with faint emphasis.
Mr.Fentolin smiled.

His face became almost like the face of one of those angels of the great Italian master.
"How well you know me!" he murmured.

"My humble effort, Doctor--how do you like it ?" The doctor bent over the canvas.
"I know nothing about art," he said, a little roughly.

"Your work seems to me clever--a little grotesque, perhaps; a little straining after the hard, plain things which threaten.

Nothing of the idealist in your work, Mr.Fentolin." Mr.Fentolin studied the canvas himself for a moment.
"A clever man, Sarson," he remarked coolly, "but no courtier.