Mrs. Tremaine.
Certainly.
Denham.
(arranging skirt of dress) That will do. The fan so—head a little more to the left—so. (He goes back, and paints in silence again.) This is coming splendidly. I dare not do much more to the head.
Mrs. Tremaine.
Can you finish it to-day?
Denham.
As much as I can finish anything. (Paints again in silence.) I wish Constance had some of your reposeful quality. I can't think what ails her. She gets more irritable and pessimistic every day.
Mrs. Tremaine.
Perhaps you irritate her.