“Oh, that would be foolish,” she said. “Delineate his disgusting features if you have promised. My disgusting features will wait.”
“Ah, but that is just what they won’t do,” said Evelyn.
“Do you mean they will go bad, like meat in hot weather? Thank you so much.”
“My impression will go bad,” said he. “No, I must paint you at once. Besides”—and still he was perfectly frank—“besides Philip is, I suppose, my oldest friend. He has asked me to do it, and friendship comes before cheques.”
They walked in silence a little while.
“I am rather nervous,” said Madge. “I watched you painting this afternoon for a bit.”
“Oh, a silly sketch,” said he, “flowers, terrace, woods behind; it was only a study for a background.”
“Well, it seemed to affect you. You frowned and growled, and stared and bit the ends of your brushes. Am I going to be stuck up on a platform to be growled at and stared at? I don’t think I could stand it; I should laugh.”
Evelyn nodded his head in strong approval.
“That will be what I want,” he said. “I will growl to any extent if it will make you laugh. I shall paint you laughing, laughing at all the ups and downs of the world. I promise you you shall laugh. With sad eyes, too,” he added. “Did you know you had sad eyes?”