"I can't possibly go," said Frank. "I can't leave my painting when I've only just begun it."
"I wish you'd come," said Margery.
"Margery, how silly you are! I couldn't possibly. But—but there's no reason why you shouldn't go."
He suddenly sprang up.
"Margery, tell me not to go on with it," he said, "and if you'll do that I'll come. But I can't leave it."
"Frank, how silly you are. I shall do nothing of the kind. I wish you would leave it for a couple of days and come with me, but I know it's no use arguing with you. I shall go, I think, for one night, not for two; so if I start to-morrow morning I shall get back on Friday evening. I must see mother again before she leaves Cornwall."
Frank walked back to the easel.
"What's the matter with it?" he said, impatiently.
"You've only made yourself look very cross, dear," said Margery, placidly. "You often do look cross, you know, but I should not advise you to paint yourself as cross as you are. Oh, Frank, I've got a brilliant idea!"
"What's that?"