“Oh yes, let him see Herbert’s work,” pleaded Madame.
“I don’t think we ought to disturb him,” said Matthew, yieldingly. “Won’t you take another glass of wine?”
“No, thank you, sir,” said Matt, who was quite faint, for his dinner had been of the slightest; and feeling the request a signal to take his leave, he rose.
“Oh yes, do let him see them,” said Madame, hurriedly. “It’s only for once.”
“Oh, well, as you’re a sort of relation,” said the father, imposingly. “But I make it a point not to interrupt him. These hours are precious; there’s not too much light at the best of times.” And, as if following Matt’s impulse, he rose and turned doorward.
“There’s no need for you to trouble, Josephine,” he said, waving her back.
As they mounted the soft-carpeted staircase, on which undraped marble statues looked down from their niches, he explained, gravely, “There’s a male model up there, you see.”
Matt nodded, awed to silence by the splendor of the staircase, up which he toiled side by side with the Vandyke beard and the velvet coat.
“Herbert, of course, uses the side door,” vouchsafed his companion, graciously, to relieve the monotony of the long ascent. “I couldn’t have his models coming through the shop.”
Matt murmured something negative, but his reply was lost in a dull thud from above. The elder man cleared the remaining stairs in alarm, and threw open the door.