"They are amateurish——"
"Au contraire," she interrupted, "they are quite—but Henri did not tell me, monsieur, that you were an artist."
"And he was right, cousin."
She had turned her face away from the light, so he could not see her blushes. For these pictures told a story of love more vividly and more eloquently than words. She was trying to piece out that which remained untold.
"The pictures are well done, Cousin Jean,—and your model——"
"Fouchette."
"Oh, yes; I see now! She is a model, truly!"
Mlle. Remy seemed to derive a good deal of satisfaction from this conclusion.
