“You’ll be a failure, you know. This sort of thing won’t get you into academies. What’s the use of painting what ought to be there? Eh? People want to be photographed. Ask Justin. Isn’t that so, Justin?”
Laura flashed a dubious look at him. She was not quite sure that she approved of the tone in which he said “Ask Justin.” Almost it seemed as if he implied superiority—a mutual acknowledgement of superiority to Justin.... Cheek!...
She waited for Justin to assert himself. But Justin was absorbed in her drawing.
“It’s quite good, isn’t it?” he said to Oliver with an air of gratified surprise.
“Oh, quite good.” And this time the tone was so unmistakable that Laura reddened angrily. She got up abruptly and joined them.
“Though I haven’t got a nose like that. That I’ll swear.” Justin rubbed the original thoughtfully.
Oliver grinned.
“No. That’s Cæsar’s beak. But you could have if you tried. Isn’t that the idea, Laura? No work done, but great works undone. You make her tear it up, Justin. It isn’t fair.” And then, as Laura made a movement to obey him, “Here, what are you doing? This masterpiece is my perquisite.”
“Look here, Oliver, I won’t have Laura ragged.” Justin had caught sight of her vexed face. “Don’t you worry, Laura. It isn’t half bad for a beginner. Tons better than I thought you could.”
Oliver went off into one of his fits of laughter.