"No," he said, "not a bit. You know, I am really a landscape painter."
"What do you mean?" she cried. "You are Peter Samways, A.R.A., the famous portrait painter!"
"No," he said sadly. "That was my secret. I am Paul Samways. A member of the Amateur Rowing Association, it is true, but only an unknown landscape painter. Peter Samways lives in the next studio, and he is not even a relation."
"Then you have deceived me! You have brought me here under false pretences!" She stamped her foot angrily. "My father will not buy that picture, and I forbid you to exhibit it as a portrait of myself."
"My dear Lady Hermione," said Paul, "you need not be alarmed. I propose to exhibit the picture as 'When the Heart is Young.' Nobody will recognize a likeness to you in it. And if the Duke does not buy it I have no doubt that some other purchaser will come along."
Lady Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. "Why did you do it?" she asked gently.
"Because I fell in love with you."
She dropped her eyes, and then raised them gaily to his. "Mother is still asleep," she whispered.
"Hermione!" he cried, dropping his palette and putting his brush behind his ear.
She held out her arms to him.