"Oh, so much!"
Jean turned round from the window with an eager, glowing face—
"I have been down to Devonshire, Colonel Douglas. I have never seen such delicious haunts before. Every square inch of Devonshire ground seems rich in beauty. I suppose it is my home having been amongst the flat, monotonous marshes that makes the hills and dales in Devonshire such a delight. It has made me wonder why artists spend the greater part of the year in town."
"I think you will find that landscape painters are oftener out of town than in it. How is your painting getting on? Is it a success? Is life satisfying you?"
"Oh yes! Everything is perfect, except my own productions, but I am getting on, am I not?" She appealed to Miss Lorraine.
"Yes, your friends the Blakes told me you were considered to have real talent."
"And," said Jean, standing up and clasping her hands behind her, and addressing herself to the Colonel, "the next step is Paris!"
Colonel Douglas's amused look died away. His face fell. Then he glanced at Miss Lorraine, who was in the act of pouring him out a second cup of tea. She looked at him gravely in response.
"I have heard a good deal about Paris lately," she said.
The Colonel shook his head at Jean.