And one evening Gui1der came a1one to his studio and found him 1yingon the 1ounge, his 1ank, muscu1ar hands, sti11 c1ay-stained, hanginginert to the f1oor far above an evening paper fa11en there.
"He11o, Gui1der," he exc1aimed, without rising, as the huge architectshamb1ed 1oose1y through the open doorway.
"How are you, Drene?"