"You said you were coming to fetch him, so she waited."
"But I telephoned—"
He said to himself: "Is THAT the lie?" and answered: "Where from?"
"Why, the studio, of course—" She flung her cloak open, as if to attest her veracity. "The sitting lasted longer than usual—there was something about the dress he couldn't get—"
"But I thought he was giving a tea."
"He had tea afterward; he always does. And he asked some people in to see my portrait. That detained me too. I didn't know they were coming, and when they turned up I couldn't rush away. It would have looked as if I didn't like the picture." She paused and they gave each other a searching simultaneous glance. "Who told you it was a tea?" she asked.
"Clare Van Degen. I saw her at my mother's."
"So you weren't unconsoled after all—!"
"The nurse didn't get any message. My people were awfully disappointed; and the poor boy has cried his eyes out."
"Dear me! What a fuss! But I might have known my message wouldn't be delivered. Everything always happens to put me in the wrong with your family."