"Yes." (Very promptly.)
"I wonder if that beautiful Phyllis would sit to me?"
"She would probably be immensely honoured."
"Well, you see, it's this: I want her for Cressida."
"Rather a disagreeable sort of subject isn't it?" said Frank, doubtfully; then added, with professional interest: "I didn't know you had such a picture on hand, Mr. Darrell."
"The idea occurred to me this very afternoon. It was the sight of the fair Phyllis, in fact, which suggested it."
"Were you thinking of the scene in the orchard, or in the Greek camp?"
"Neither; one could hardly ask a lady to sit for such a picture. No, it is Cressida, before her fall, I want; as she stands at the street corner with Pandarus, waiting for the Trojan heroes to pass, don't you know? Half ironical, half wistful; with the light of that little tendre for Troilus just beginning to dawn in her eyes. She would be the very thing for it."
"Are you going to propose it to her?" said Frank, who looked as if he did not much relish the idea.
"I shall ask her to sit for me, at any rate. There's the dragon-sister to be got round first."