[She goes out into the house.]
WELLWYN. [Back at his easel.] You can shut your mouth now.
[MRS. MEGAN shuts her mouth, but opens it immediately to smile.]
WELLWYN. [Spasmodically.] Ah! Now that's what I want. [He dabs furiously at the canvas. Then standing back, runs his hands through his hair and turns a painter's glance towards the skylight.] Dash! Light's gone! Off you get, child—don't tempt me!
[MRS. MEGAN descends. Passing towards the door of the model's room she stops, and stealthily looks at the picture.]
TIMSON. Ah! Would yer!
WELLWYN. [Wheeling round.] Want to have a look? Well—come on!
[He takes her by the arm, and they stand before the canvas.
After a stolid moment, she giggles.]
WELLWYN. Oh! You think so?
MRS. MEGAN. [Who has lost her hoarseness.] It's not like my picture that I had on the pier.