XIX
There came at last a couple of days during which Rowland was unable to go to the hotel. Late in the evening of the second Roderick appeared at his lodgings. In a few moments he announced that he had finished the bust of his mother.
"And it 's ripping, you know," he declared. "It 's quite my high-water mark."
"I 'm delighted to hear it," Rowland replied. "Never again talk to me about your inspiration being dead."
"Why not? This may be its last kick! I feel very tired. But the thing is n't too nauseating, though I do say it. They tell us we owe so much to our parents. Well, I 've paid the debt with interest!" He walked up and down, the purpose of his visit evidently still hung fire. "There 's one thing more I want to say," he presently resumed. "I feel as if I ought to tell you." He stopped before his companion with his head high and his face as clear as a beach at the ebb. "Your invention 's a failure!"
"My invention?" Rowland repeated.
"Bringing out my mother and Mary."
"A failure?"
"It 's no use! They don't help me."
Rowland had believed he had no more surprises for him; but that hero had himself a wide-eyed stare.
"They bore me to death," Roderick went on.
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