Explore "Paul Quentin" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Bassano's glance wandered from the ceiling to the floor, and back again. He seemed eager to speak, yet looked as if a sense of shame held him voiceless. Dugdale, contemptuous and impatient, could not but feel sorry for the man whom he was inviting to proclaim himself a criminal. He was not without sympathy for the Italian artist. The man's mind was to a certain extent perverted. He regarded himself as a being with a mission, justified in employing whatever means would promote his cause. There are people like this--people in many ways sincere and honest, who contrive to approve of wrong-doing, provided good come of it. Bassano was this sort of visionary. Dugdale read him like a book and put a curb upon his impatience.
"Let me explain," he said. "You wouldn't do such a thing merely to put money in your pocket. You wouldn't be guilty of a vulgar crime so that you might live an idle and luxurious life."