Summer in February Page #2

I saw you gazing at her.

- Nonsense.

- Very paintable.

- Ah, so it's over to you, then.

- There'll be a stalking party.

- Oh, I'm sure.

- Might be a gent she's after.

Remember, whatever I say or do,

I'm your friend,

even when I'm a silly bugger.

All right, come on, Gilbert.

I'll beat you this time.

I've been in the rock pools again

and I'm just bringing them in,

putting them in the big tank

and the little devil stung me.

- Gilbert, what a pleasure.

- Florence, how are you?

Here he is. Look, Gilbert.

This one here.

- That's extraordinary.

- Yeah.

Beautiful, aren't they?

When is your first class?

Tomorrow at Newlyn.

Joey's going to take me, aren't you?

Yes, of course.

If Father thinks we're wasting his

money, it's straight back to London.

None of us would want that.

That's exactly what Mr Munnings said,

isn't it?

- AJ's been around already?

- You just missed him.

He came to see

some of Florence's paintings.

- I see, of course.

- And very impressed he was.

- I'm sure.

- He was just being polite.

When's AJ polite?

So Joey tells me you fought

in the South African war.

- Florence.

- What?

- You did. Did I say something wrong?

- No, not at all.

Do forgive me. Joey assured me

you all spoke about everything here.

That's what made this place special,

that sense of frank discussion.

Absolutely.

Yeah.

Well, drink in the Wink?

- What, now?

- AJ said he was going.

Well, the Wink it is, then.

- Dolly, you'll like this one.

- Try me.

When Titian mixed his rose madder,

"His model he placed on a ladder.

"Her position to Titian

suggested coition,

"so he mounted the ladder

and had her!"

- Same again, Dolly?

- AJ, you're a gent and it's a gin.

- Joey?

- To Omar Khayyam!

If everyone could write

like Omar Khayyam.

Who's this Omar Khayyam?

Weren't you educated at all?

No. Not much.

- He does makes lots of references...

- AJ.

Erm...

Who's this Omar, then?

Arab horse thief?

Er, "Rubaiyat" of Omar Khayyam.

It's a poem,

translated from the Persian.

Which Persian?

So it's a poem.

Let's hear a bit, then.

- I like a bit of poetry.

- Alfred.

No, stay out of this, Laura.

Well, come on.

- Do you...?

- A couplet.

- Bertie...

- A line? A word?

So you like this Omar, but you don't

know a bloody word of his?

- Right, Jory!

- Yes, AJ.

Get me a drink, will you,

and I'll give this lot a bit of poetry.

A bit of bloody "Hiawatha".

"Never stoops the soaring vulture

"On his quarry in the desert,

"On the sick or wounded bison,

But another vulture, watching

"From his high aerial lookout... "

Florence, I would very much like

to paint you.

I was wondering

whether you would sit for me.

And when I'm with you,

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