Miss Hartwell had left her sketch-book unclosed. An errant breath of wind was fluttering the pages.
"What is that?" Élise asked. "Another kind of book to make you tear up flowers?" Her voice was hard again.
Miss Hartwell took up the open book.
"Perhaps you would like to see these. They may atone for my other wrong-doing."
Élise seated herself and received the sketches one by one as they were handed to her. Miss Hartwell had intended to make comments as necessity or opportunity seemed to demand; but Élise forestalled her.
"This is beautiful; only——" She paused.
Miss Hartwell looked up.
"Only what?"
Élise shook her head impatiently.
"You've put those horrid names on each one of them. They make me think of the ones you tore to pieces."