ve plenty of time for paintingand you can earn a bit of money.'
I knew he was starvingbut I offered him good wages.
I can't imagine that he was a very satisfactory overseer I said,
ugg boots, smiling.
I made allowances. I have always had a sympathy for artists. It is in our bloodyou know. But he only
remained a few months. When he had enough money to buy paints and canvases he left me. The place had got
hold of him by thenand he wanted to get away into the bush. But I continued to see him now and then. He
would turn up in Papeete every few months and stay a little while; he'd get money out of someone or other
and then disappear again. It was on one of these visits that he came to me and asked for the loan of two
hundred francs. He looked as if he hadn't had a meal for a weekand I hadn't the heart to refuse him. Of
courseI never expected to see my money again. Wella year later he came to see me once moreand he
brought a picture with him. He did not mention the money he owed mebut he said: `Here is a picture of your
plantation that I've painted for you.' I looked at it. I did not know what to saybut of course I thanked himand
when he had gone away I showed it to my wife.
What was it like?
I asked.
Do not ask me. I could not make hyilai:
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On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedabmaqq