remark.
"How he conducts himself is his business, not
mine," Kenneth replied. "Let's not talk about him. It
puts me into a bad mood," he said and then turned to
me. "Just as you've been told, digging up the past is
only going to revive unhappiness and we have enough
to contend with in the present.
"Besides,"- he added, "you're my special model
now. I don't want you co
ming around with a long, sad
look on your face. I want you fresh, lovely, and
curious about yourself, not others. Concentrate on our
concept when you're with me," he added as we drew
closer to his house and studio.
"You're the one who asked me about the
weekend," I shot back.
He thought on that and then nodded.
"You're right." He held up his hand. "I'm guilty,
which shows you, even I can be tempted into the wrong frame of mind. I'll make a pact with you," he said as he pulled into the driveway. "I won't ask you any questions about your private life and you won't ask me any about mine. We'll just be in the world of
art, okay?"
"Art isn't a world separate from the real world,"
I said, my eyes narrow, my gaze fixed and
determined. "Ideas, images, colors all come from your
experiences, don't they?"
He stared silently at me, a friendly, almost
loving glint coming into his eyes before he smiled. "You're quite a kid," he said. He said it with
such admiration and pride, I had to blush. "Okay,
you're right. But we'll do our best. Deal?" He
extended his hand. I stared at it a moment. He wanted
me to swear to be silent, to lock up my thoughts and