‘No more, sir?’ says the photographer to Crosby, whom he has elected to address as being the principal member of the party. To speak to Miss Barry would have been beyond the poor man.
‘Oh yes, one more,’ says Crosby.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
‘If Sorrow stole
A charm awhile from Beauty, Beauty’s self
Might envy well the charm that Sorrow lent
To every perfect feature.’
He draws Bonnie forward—Bonnie, who has been sitting so quietly in his corner for the past thirty minutes, enchanted with the strange scene. He has cared nothing for his aunt’s eccentricities; he has thought only of the wonderful things that were done behind that dingy black velvet curtain. Oh, if he could only get behind it too, and find out! The sickly child’s frame was weak, but his mind was fresh and strong, and ran freely into regions far beyond his ken.
With the boy’s hand in his, Crosby turns courteously to Miss Barry.
‘I hope you will let me have this charming face taken, if only for my own gratification,’ says he. ‘I have long wished it. And as he is here—if you will allow me. It is quite an ideal type, you know—I may have him photographed?’