Mariana turned from him with a slight shrug of her shoulders.
"For the last week," she said, "I have had a horrible cold. It made my eyes red and my nose also. That is why I stayed away."
"And plunged me into a seven days' despair—for a cold."
"Oh, but such a cold!"
She seated herself on a low chair between two large curtained easels. Then she rose to examine the portrait.
"I suppose the touching-up makes a great deal of difference," she remarked.
"A great deal," assented Nevins; "but don't you like it?"
She hesitated, her head first on one side, then on the other.
"Oh yes," she said, "but I should like it to be ideal, you know."
"Nonsense! You don't need to be idealized. To idealize means to wipe out character with turpentine and put in inanity with a paint-brush." Then he added: "Sit down just as you are, and turn your head towards the purple curtain on that easel. A little farther—there. I must have that expression."