He turned away from her, and his eyes fell upon the portrait. It instantly fixed his attention.
“Holloa!” he exclaimed. “Why is it here? I thought it was for Hester.”
Katharine laughed.
“He brought it this morning,” she answered. “He’s changed his mind, and has given it to uncle Robert. How do you like it?”
John looked at it long, his eyelids drooping a little. When he turned his head, he looked directly at Katharine’s mouth critically.
“You haven’t got a mouth like that,” he said, suddenly. “And I never saw that expression in your eyes, either,” he added, a moment later. “What’s the fellow been doing?”
“I don’t know, Jack. But I don’t like it. I’m sure of that, at all events.”
“Does uncle Robert like it?”
“No. He’s anything but pleased, though he thought it splendid at first. Then he saw what you and I see. It wasn’t so in the studio, it seems to me. He’s done something to it since. Never mind the picture, Jack. Sit down, and let’s talk, since we’ve got a chance at last.”
John’s eyes lingered on the portrait a moment longer, then he turned away with an impatient movement, and sat down beside Katharine. He stroked her hand gently two or three times, and neither said anything. Then he leaned back in his straight chair and crossed one knee over the other.