Half after three
So there were no lines in his handsome , boyish , beardless face ; and his eyes were unusually clear and happy . Perhaps once or twice , since his majority , he had returned to America to prove that he was not an expatriate , though certainly he was one , the only tie existing between him and his native land being the bankers who regularly honored his drafts . And who shall condemn him for preferring Italy to the desolate center of New York state , where good servants and good weather are as rare as are flawless emeralds ? Half after three , on Wednesday afternoon , Abbott stared moodily at the weather-tarnished group by Dalou in the Luxembourg gardens -- the _ Triumph of Silenus _ . His gaze was deceptive , for the rollicking old bibulous scoundrel had not stirred his critical sense nor impressed the delicate films of thought . He was looking through the bronze , into the far-away things . He sat on his own folding stool , which he had brought along from his winter studio hard by in the old Boul ' Miche ' .