"Yes; they may remain. They must do so, of course. There; if you will put the easel in the corner, with the canvas behind it, they will not be seen if he should chance to come into the room."
"He would not be angry, I suppose, if he saw them?"
"There is no knowing. Men are so unreasonable. All men are, I think. All those are whom I have had the fortune to know. Women generally say that men are selfish. I do not complain so much that they are selfish as that they are thoughtless. They are headstrong and do not look forward to results. Now you,—I do not think you would willingly do me an injury?"
"I do not think I would."
"I am sure you would not;—but yet you would forget to save me from one."
"What injury?"
"Oh, never mind. I am not thinking of anything in particular. From myself, for instance. But we will not talk about that. That way madness lies. Tell me, Conway;—what do you think of Clara Van Siever?"
"She is very handsome, certainly."
"And clever?"
"Decidedly clever. I should think she has a temper of her own."