"I'll show you this, now we're such good friends. I could only draw the profile because—well, that was the only thing I could look at much."
She looked and saw herself on three pages of the book, quick little drawings, all of the side face.
"I didn't dream you had seen me enough," she said. "And you have everything from cap to boots, and Cooney——"
"I knew Cooney, and I've—well—I've watched you some when you didn't know."
"Certainly you never watched me when I did know," she retorted.
"I should think not!" He laughed uneasily. "But you see the sadness there. I tried to locate it, but I couldn't. I only knew it was there because I found it in the sketches when they were done. I think I caught the figure pretty well in that one. Stand that way now, won't you?"
She rose graciously.
"Here's your quirt, and catch your skirts the way you've done there—that's it. Yes, I got that long line down from the shoulder. It's a fine line. You are beautiful," he continued critically. "I like the way your neck goes up from your shoulders, and your head has a perky kind of a tilt, as if you wouldn't be easy to bluff."
She smiled, meditating some jocose retort, but he still surveyed her impersonally, not seeing the smile. She dropped to the couch rather quickly.
"Let us talk about you," she urged. But he did not hear.