“Mademoiselle’ll be on hand, you’ll see,” he said, trying not to show his surprise, but Blue Bonnet felt the change in his voice. He would think her afraid, too. None of them would understand.
“I’ve decided on my Sargent,” he added, as if glad to change the subject.
“Have you?” Blue Bonnet’s pretense at interest was not very successful. “Everybody seems to be getting their subjects. I’m glad I’m not trying. What is yours?”
“It’s a secret—remember?”
“I can keep secrets, and—promises.”
Alec looked at her, wonderingly, caught by something in her voice. “I’m going to write up about some of the earlier Sargent winners—not the famous ones, they’ve been done to death, but some of the poor chaps who didn’t go on winning prizes. It won’t be easy, getting at the necessary facts.”
“It sounds interesting,” Blue Bonnet said.
She went with him to the door. The rain had stopped and over in the west the clouds had taken on a touch of sunset color. The wind had changed; it blew fresh and cool against Blue Bonnet’s face.
“It’s going to clear, isn’t it?” she asked.
Alec nodded.