"Of course you have. So have I, as you perceive. Now, Mr. Eames,"—and Miss Demolines' voice became tremulously eager as she addressed him,—"it is your duty, and it is my duty, to take care that that picture shall never be painted."
"But why should it not be painted?"
"You don't know Miss Van Siever, yet."
"Not in the least."
"Nor Mrs. Van Siever."
"I never spoke a word to her."
"I do. I know them both,—well." There was something almost grandly tragic in Miss Demolines' voice as she thus spoke. "Yes, Mr. Eames, I know them well. If that scheme be continued, it will work terrible mischief. You and I must prevent it."
"But I don't see what harm it will do."
"Think of Conway Dalrymple passing so many hours in Maria's sitting-room upstairs! The picture is to be painted there, you know."
"But Miss Van Siever will be present. Won't that make it all right? What is there wrong about Miss Van Siever?"