\"Ohyes，Ido，\"saidthepainter。\"Weneverknowwhenwemaybeuponthepointofrevelation。Iwouldn’tmissanychance。\"
WhetherWhitwellfeltanironicslantinthewordsornot，hepausedamomentbeforehesaid：\"Wanttostartherup，Jackson？\"
Jacksonbroughttothefloortheforefeetofhischair，whichhehadtiltedfromitinleaningback，andwithoutotheranswerputhishandontheplanchette。Itbegantoflyoverthelargesheetofpaperspreaduponthetable，incurvesandanglesandeccentrics。
\"Feelspoottylivelyto—night，\"saidWhitwell，withaglanceatWestover。
ThelittleCanuck，asifhehadnownofurtherconcerninthematter，satdowninacornerandsmokedsilently。Whitwellasked，afteramoment’simpatience：