'Yes, we have been in so many places. You must see my little girl. She is nine years old—she's too beautiful.'
'You must bring her to my studio some day—I should like to paint her.'
'Ah, don't speak of that,' said Mrs. Capadose. 'It reminds me of something so distressing.'
'I hope you don't mean when you used to sit to me—though that may well have bored you.'
'It's not what you did—it's what we have done. It's a confession I must make—it's a weight on my mind! I mean about that beautiful picture you gave me—it used to be so much admired. When you come to see me in London (I count on your doing that very soon) I shall see you looking all round. I can't tell you I keep it in my own room because I love it so, for the simple reason——' And she paused a moment.
'Because you can't tell wicked lies,' said Lyon.
'No, I can't. So before you ask for it——'
'Oh, I know you parted with it—the blow has already fallen,' Lyon interrupted.
'Ah then, you have heard? I was sure you would! But do you know what we got for it? Two hundred pounds.'
'You might have got much more,' said Lyon, smiling.