"My drawing has been very successful," he said.
Margery was still looking at the face.
"It is horrible," she said. "Yet I don't see where it is wrong. It's very like you, somehow."
She looked from the picture to her husband, and saw that his face was puzzled and anxious.
"I see what it is," she said. "You've been worrying and growling over it till your face really began to look something like what you were drawing. Oh, Frank, you haven't had breakfast yet. Sit down and have it at once. It all comes of having no breakfast."
"Is that all, do you think?" asked he. "Is that the face of a man who is only guilty of not eating his breakfast? It looks to me guilty, somehow."
"Yes, that's why it's guilty. Your face is guilty, too. When you've eaten your breakfast and smoked that horrid little black pipe of yours, it won't look guilty any more."
Frank was looking at what he had done with the air of a disinterested spectator.
"It seems to me that that brute there has done something worse than not eat his breakfast," he said.
"Nonsense. I'm going to get you some fresh tea because this is cold, and there's that sweet little cold grouse dying, so to speak, to be eaten. You begin on it while I get the tea."