Louisiana indulged in one of her blushes.
"Have you a picture of him?"
"Yes. Why?" she asked, in some surprise.
"Because I should like to see his face."
"Do you think," Miss Ferrol said, in further bewilderment, "that you might not like him?"
"I think he might not like me."
"Not like you!" cried Miss Ferrol. "You! He will think you are divine—when you are dressed as I shall dress you."
She went to her trunk and produced the picture. It was not a photograph, but a little crayon head—the head of a handsome man, whose expression was a singular combination of dreaminess and alertness. It was a fascinating face.
"One of his friends did it," said Miss Ferrol. "His friends are very fond of him and admire his good looks very much. They protest against his being photographed. They like to sketch him. They are always making 'studies' of his head. What do you think of him?"
Louisiana hesitated.