Портрет художника в юности

           Aleanstudentwitholiveskinandlankblackhairthrusthisfacebetweenthetwo,glancingfromonetotheotherateachphraseandseemingtotrytocatcheachflyingphraseinhisopenmoistmouth.Cranlytookasmallgreyhandballfromhispocketandbegantoexamineitclosely,turningitoverandover.

           —Nextbusiness?saidMacCann.Hom!

           Hegavealoudcoughoflaughter,smiledbroadlyandtuggedtwiceatthestraw-colouredgoateewhichhungfromhisbluntchin.

           —Thenextbusinessistosignthetestimonial.

           —WillyoupaymeanythingifIsign?askedStephen.

           —Ithoughtyouwereanidealist,saidMacCann.

           Thegipsy-likestudentlookedabouthimandaddressedtheonlookersinanindistinctbleatingvoice.

           —Byhell,that’saqueernotion.Iconsiderthatnotiontobeamercenarynotion.

           Hisvoicefadedintosilence.Noheedwaspaidtohiswords.Heturnedhisoliveface,equineinexpression,towardsStephen,invitinghimtospeakagain.

           MacCannbegantospeakwithfluentenergyoftheTsar’srescript,ofStead,ofgeneraldisarmamentarbitrationincasesofinternationaldisputes,ofthesignsofthetimes,ofthenewhumanityandthenewgospeloflifewhichwouldmakeitthebusinessofthecommunitytosecureascheaplyaspossiblethegreatestpossiblehappinessofthegreatestpossiblenumber.