The helpless thing remained upon the easel, facing him.
Hollanden entered and stopped abruptly at sight of the great scowl.
"What's wrong now ?" he said.
Hawker gestured at the picture.

"That dunce of a thing.

It makes me tired.

It isn't worth a hang.

Blame it!" "What ?" Hollanden strode forward and stood before the painting with legs apart, in a properly critical manner.