May I ask how much ?" "That's what I'm asking you," said Priam, fiddling with a paint rag.
"Hum!" observed Mr.Oxford, and gazed in silence.

Then: "Two hundred and fifty ?" Priam had virtually promised to deliver that picture to the picture-framer on the next day, and he had not expected to receive a penny more than twelve pounds for it.

But artists are strange organisms.
He shook his head.

Although two hundred and fifty pounds was as much as he had earned in the previous twelve months, he shook his grey head.
"No ?" said Mr.Oxford kindly and respectfully, putting his hands behind his back.

"By the way," he turned with eagerness to Priam, "I presume you have seen the portrait of Ariosto by Titian that they've bought for the National Gallery?
What is your opinion of it, _maitre_ ?" He stood expectant, glowing with interest.
"Except that it isn't Ariosto, and it certainly isn't by Titian, it's a pretty high-class sort of thing," said Priam.
Mr.Oxford smiled with appreciative content, nodding his head.