Along with the torment of doubts that assailed him, thanks to that infernal notebook, the studio kept catapulting itself into a jungle of nerve-racking disorder in which it was impossible to work.

And when Mrs.Haggerty fell upon it with the horrible energy of the Philistine and found places for everything, the studio became a place in which no self-respecting painter could be expected to keep his inspiration or his temper.

Here again, Kenny felt aggrievedly, was a condition which Brian's presence could have altered.
The lad had a way of mitigating order and disorder with a curious result of comfort.
Garry lost his patience.
"You remind me," he said, "of the English squire who only drank ale on two occasions; when he had goose for dinner and when he didn't." Kenny remarked that the squire by reason of his nativity was a fool.
And the thing couldn't be helped.

The studio in order was impossible.
He added with an air of inspiration that it made him think of mathematics.

Mathematics he considered a final argument against anything.