office last!
You understand, Mr. Shotwell? With me, art is supreme! Yes. And
afterward my crust of bread."

"Well, then," said Jim, "I can't see why you don't pay this man
Skidder what he asks for the property."

"I tell you why. I make it clear to you. For argument--Skidder he has
ever the air of one who does not care to sell. It is an attitude! I
know! But he has that air. Well! I say to him, 'Mr. Skidder, I offer
you--we say for argument, one dollar! Yes?' Well, he do not say yes or
no. He do not say, 'I take a dollar and also one quarter. Or a dollar
and a half. Or two dollars.' No. He squint and answer: 'I am not
anxious to sell!' My God! What can one say? What can one do?"

"Perhaps," suggested Jim, "he really doesn't want to sell."

"Ah! That is not so. No. He is sly, Mr. Skidder, like there never has
been in my experience a man more sly. What is it he desires? I ask. I
do not know. But all the time he inquire about my business if it pays,
and is there much money in it. Also, I hear, by channels, that he
makes everywhere inquiries if the film business shall pay."

"Maybe he wants to try it himself."

"Also, that has occurred to me. But to him I say nothing. No. He is
too sly. Me, I am all art and all heart. Me, I am frank like there
never was a man in my business! But Skidder, he squint at me. My God,
those eye! And I do not know what is in his thought."

"Well, Mr. Puma, what do you wish me to do? As I understand it, you
are our client, and if I buy for you this Skidder property I shall
look to you, of course, for my commission. Is that what you
understand?"

"My God! Why should he not pay that commission if you are sufficiently
obliging to buy from him his property?"

"It isn't done that way," explained Jim drily.

"You suppose you can buy me this property? Yes?"

"I don't know. Of course, I can buy anything for you if you'll pay
enough."

"My God! I do not enjoy commercial business. No. I enjoy art. I enjoy
qualities of the heart. I----" He looked at Jim out of his magnificent
black eyes, touched his full lips with a perfumed handkerchief.

"Yes, sir," he said, flashing a brilliant smile, "I am all heart. But
my heart is for art alone! I dedicate it to the film, to the moving
picture, to beauty! It is my constant preoccupation. It is my only
thought. Art, beauty, the picture, the world made happier, better, for
the beauty which I offer in my pictures. It is my only thought. It is
my life."