"It has been a nice day, yes."
"I meant as to your work."
"My work?"
"Yes, your sketching."
"Oh. Oh, yes, of course. Fine. Very clear. Very good views."
"I suppose you elaborate these in your studio in town."
"What? Oh, well—it isn't much of a studio at that. It is more or less on the side—my art work. I—I make no pretensions. Everybody's got to have a fad to be truly happy, haven't they? I like to scrawl and daub a little."
"You are modest. I've been expecting you would show us some of these views. This place is surely one to tempt the artist. Doubtless you have seen some of Frederic Waugh's canvases done from the sketches he made here."
"Eh? Who? Oh, yes, of course," replied Gayne lamely. "Strange that that Miss Wilbur should ever have struck this island. I understand she's the daughter of the steel man. I suppose she's slumming." Gayne laughed.
Mrs. Lowell could not force a responsive smile. "She is a very charming girl." After a pause: "I've had several talks with your nephew, Mr. Gayne."