He had made thousands of such colour 'notes' in his life, and he would never part with any of them.

He had always hated to part with his notes.

Doubtless his cousin Duncan had them now, if Duncan had discovered his address in Paris, as Duncan probably had.
When it was finished, he inspected the sketch, half shutting his eyes and holding it about three feet off.

It was good.

Except for a few pencil scrawls done in sheer absent-mindedness and hastily destroyed, this was the first sketch he had made since the death of Henry Leek.