pictures."

"And you think mine are good?"

"Not in the popular manner--they're too original. But they're great.
And you're a great painter. And I want to know--"

"Hurray!" shouted Hunt, and flung an enthusiastic arm about Larry, and
began to pound his back. "Oh, boy! Oh, boy!"

Larry wrenched himself free. "Cut that out. Then you admit you're a
great painter?"

"Of course I'm a great painter!" shouted Hunt. "Who should know it
better than I do?"

"Then what's a great painter doing down here? What's the game you're
trying to put over, posing as--"

"Listen, son," Hunt grinned. "You've called me and I've got to show my
cards. Only you mustn't ever tell--nor must Maggie; the Duchess
doesn't talk, anyway. No need bothering you just now with a lot of
details about myself. It's enough to say that people wouldn't pay me
except when I did the usual pretty rot; no one believed in the other
stuff I wanted to do. I wanted to get away from that bunch; I wanted
to do real studies of human people, with their real nature showing
through. So I beat it. Understand so far?"

"But why pose as a dub down here?"