“You don’t see any resemblance to yourself, I suppose,” said Crowdie, with some amusement.
“Frankly—I hope I’m better looking than that,” laughed Katharine.
“You are. Sometimes you’re divinely beautiful.” His voice grew exquisitely caressing.
Katharine was not pleased.
“I didn’t ask for impossible compliments,” she said coolly.
“Now look,” answered Crowdie, taking no notice of the little rebuke, and touching the smudge with his fingers. “You mustn’t look too close, you know. You must try and get the effect—not what you see, but what I see.”
Without glancing at her face he quickly touched the sketch at many points with his thumb, with his finger, with his bit of crayon, with his needle-pointed lead pencil. Katharine watched him intently.
“Shut your eyes a little, so as not to see the details too distinctly,” he said, still working.
The face began to stand out. There was very little in the sketch, but there was the beginning of the expression.
“I begin to see something,” said Katharine, with increasing interest.