"Let me say it out!" he cried. "I revere you for your
whole-souled devotion to art; I can't rise to it, but
there's a strain of poetry in my nature, Loudon, that
responds to it. I want you to carry it out, and I mean
to help you."
"Pinkerton, what nonsense is this?" I interrupted.
"Now don't get mad, Loudon; this is a plain piece of
business," said he; "it's done every day; it's even
typical. How are all those fellows over here in Paris,
Henderson, Sumner, Long?--it's all the same story: a
young man just plum full of artistic genius on the one
side, a man of business on the other who doesn't know
what to do with his dollars
"But, you fool, you're as poor as a rat," I cried.
"You wait till I get my irons in the fire!" returned
Pinkerton. "I'm bound to be rich; and I tell you I
mean to have some of the fun as I go along. Here's
your first allowance; take it at the hand of a friend;
I'm one that holds friendship sacred, as you do
yourself It's only a hundred francs; you'll get the
same every month, and as soon as my business begins to
expand we'll increase it to something fitting.
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