his world. Ever since his return from Colombia he had honestly been
intending to resume his painting, and, attacking it this time in a
business-like way, to try to mould himself into the semblance of an
efficient artist.
His mind had been full of fine resolutions. He would engage a good
teacher, some competent artist whom fortune had not treated well and
who would be glad of the job,
were full of them, and settle down grimly, working regular hours, to
recover lost ground.
But the rush of life, as lived on the upper avenue, had swept him away.
He had been carried along on the rapids of dinners, parties, dances,
theatres, luncheons, and the rest, and his great resolve had gone
bobbing away from him on the current.
He had recovered it now and climbed painfully ashore, feeling bruised
and exhausted, but determined.
* * * * *
Among the motley crowd which had made the studio a home in the days of
Kirk's bachelorhood had been an artist, one might almost say an
ex-artist, named Robert Dwight Penway. An over-fondness for rye whisky
at the Brevoort cafe had handicapped Robert as an active force in the
world of New York art. As a practical worker he was not greatly
esteemed, least of all by the editors of magazines, who had paid
advance cheques to him for work which, when delivered at all, was
delivered too late for publication. These, once bitten, were now twice
shy of Mr. Penway. They did not deny his great talents, which were,
indeed, indisputable; but they were fixed in their determination not to
make use of them.
Fate could have provided no more suitable ally for Kirk. It was
universally admitted around Washington Square and, grudgingly, down-town
that in the matter of theory Mr. Penway excelled. He could teach to
perfection what he was too erratic to practise.
Robert Dwight Penway, run to earth one sultry evening in the Brevoort,
welcomed Kirk as a brother, as a rich brother. Even when his first
impression, that he was to have the run of the house on Fifth Avenue
and mix freely with touchable multi-millionaires, had been corrected,
his altitude was still brotherly. He parted from Kirk with many solemn
promises to present himself at the studio daily and teach him enough
art to put him clear at the top of the profession. 'Way above all
these other dubs,' asserted Mr. Penway.
Robert Dwight Penway's attitude toward his contemporaries in art bore a
striking resemblance to Steve's estimate of his successors in the
middle-weight department of the American prize-ring.
Surprisingly to those who knew him, Mr. Penway was as good as his word.
Certainly Kirk's terms had been extremely generous; but he had thrown
away many a contract of equal value in his palmy days. Possibly his
activity was due to his liking for Kirk; or it may have been that the
prospect of sitting by with a cigar while somebody else worked, with
nothing to do all day except offer criticism, and advice, appealed to
him.
At any rate, he appeared at the studio on the following afternoon,
