"Thank you. I seem to have hit her off very well."
"Will you exhibit in Washington this winter?" he asked, with boyish eagerness.
"I may—I haven't quite decided," she said, quite off guard at last.
"If you do I wish you would let me know. I may be able to visit the exhibition and witness your triumph."
She began to suspect his motives. "Oh, my little row of paintings couldn't be tortured into a triumph. I've stolen the time for them from Mr. Lawson, whose illustrations I have neglected." She was again cold and repellent.
"Miss Brisbane, this whole situation has become intolerable to me." He rose and faced her, very sincere and deeply earnest. "I do not like to have you go away carrying an unpleasant impression of me. What can I do to change it? If I have been boorish or presuming in any way I sincerely beg your pardon."
She motioned to Peta. "You can go now, dear, I've done all I can to-day."
Curtis took up his hat. "I hope I have not broken up your sitting. It would be unpardonable in me."
She squinted back at the picture with professional gravity. "Oh no; I only had a few touches to put in under the chin—that luminous shadow is so hard to get. I'm quite finished."
She went behind a screen for a few moments, and when she reappeared without her brushes and her blouse she was the society young lady in tone and manner.