"Please don't," protested Mariana; and she added, "you know he disapproves of me very much."
"The scoundrel!"
"But a great many people do that."
"The scoundrels!"
"Oh no," said Mariana, plaintively; "it is only your kindness of heart that makes you say so."
He laid down his brush and looked at her.
"My God!—Mariana!" he exclaimed.
"Nevins," said a voice in the doorway.
He turned abruptly. Mariana, behind the curtained easel, paled suddenly.
"I knocked, my dear fellow," the voice went on, "and I thought you answered. So you are alone. I came to look at the portrait."