“There’s something wrong about that metaphor, Crowdie,” observed Griggs. “Bird mounting hobby—you know.”
“Did you never see a crow on a cow’s back?” enquired Crowdie, unmoved. “Or on a sheep? It’s funny when he gets his claws caught in the wool.”
“Go on, please, Mr. Griggs,” said Katharine. “It’s very interesting. What’s the other side of the question?”
“Oh—I don’t know!” Griggs rose abruptly from his seat and began to pace the room. “It’s lots of things, I suppose. Things we don’t understand and never shall—in this world.”
“But in the other world, perhaps,” suggested Crowdie, with a smile which Katharine did not like.
“The other world is the inside of this one,” said Griggs, coming up to the easel and looking at the painting. “That’s good, Crowdie,” he said, thoughtfully. “It’s distinctly good. I mean that it’s like, that’s all. Of course, I don’t know anything about painting—that’s your business.”
“Of course it is,” answered Crowdie; “I didn’t ask you to criticise. But I’m glad if you think it’s like.”
“Yes. Don’t mind my telling you, Crowdie—Miss Lauderdale, I hope you’ll forgive me—there’s a slight irregularity in the pupil of Miss Lauderdale’s right eye—it isn’t exactly round. It affects the expression. Do you see?”
“I never noticed it,” said Katharine in surprise.
“By Jove—you’re right!” exclaimed Crowdie. “What eyes you have, Griggs!”