“I came here for lonesomeness—as one reason,” Mr. Uzlov said.
Arden glanced at the exposed picture showing a stormy ocean with sea gulls fighting the wind. Dimitri smiled understanding as she said:
“It is lovely!”
The artist seemed to be losing some of his reluctance.
Arden walked over toward the other painting—the one covered with a sheet. She wondered what it could be.
“What is this?” she asked, extending a hand as though to lift the covering. “Is it your masterpiece?”
Instantly the young man’s face clouded.
“Please—that—do not touch it—please! It is—unfinished. I cannot show it to you. I am sorry!”
His first words had been hurried—stiff—exclamatory. The girls at once sensed a change in his manner. But his last word had been almost pleading. Even then it seemed as if his friendliness, which had been so pronounced on the arrival of his visitors, was now as covered as was the picture.
Arden drew back as if hurt.