He picked up his brush and worked steadily for twenty minutes. Then he frowned.
"You have suffered twelve changes of expression within the last sixty seconds," he said. "What are you thinking of?"
"Oh, lots of things."
"Keep to one, please."
She smiled.
"Which shall it be?"
His eyes lingered upon her in sudden brightness.
"Think of me," he responded.
"I do," returned Mariana, amiably; "but when I think of you I think of Mr. Ardly, and when I think of Mr. Ardly I think of The Gotham, and when I think of The Gotham I think of—Mr. Paul."
"Confound Mr. Paul!" retorted Nevins, crossly.