“It wouldn’t get finished very quickly at that rate,” she answered.
“I don’t want it finished quickly,” he said.
“No?” Jill’s tone was expressive of surprise, and she looked at him very straightly as she spoke. “What are you going to do with it when it is finished?” she asked.
“Give it to you if you will accept it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! that’s not what you had it painted for.”
“Now, how do you know that?” he enquired. He had risen, and coming forward took the palette and paint brushes out of her hand; then, receiving no remonstrance, he began to untie the strings of her painting apron.
“Shut up shop for to-day,” he pleaded. “I am going to stay to tea.”
It was rather an unfortunate moment for St. John to choose for putting in an appearance. Had he been married as many years as he had months it would not have mattered, but under existing circumstances it was regrettable that he should open the door when he did Jill, all unconscious of the suspicious proximity of Mr Markham’s arm to her shoulder, smiled serenely as she encountered St. John’s sharp, surprised glance, and noting that he looked displeased, presumed that he had spent a wearisome afternoon in the studio.
“Leisurable at last?” she queried cheerfully. “I am so glad, dear. Come and make yourself agreeable while I see about the kettle; Mr Markham is going to stay to tea.”
“Sorry, but I can’t,” he answered shortly. “I have to be in the dark room in a few minutes, and have enough developing to keep me engaged for some time. How’s the sitting getting on? You don’t appear to be very busy. Is Markham tired already?”