She thought it marvelous and said so.
“I don’t see how you ever remembered about the dress and the funny little bonnet,” she said. “Even the lace and the trimming are just right. How could you remember?”
He laughed again. “It wasn’t memory altogether,” he told her. “I got a copy of the photograph of the crowd which was taken the afternoon of the dress rehearsal and I worked from that. Then, besides, I made no less than three quick sketches of you in that costume. Once when you put it on for the committee to see; once when you were singing at the dress rehearsal; and the last and best the night of the concert. I was behind the scenes, no one was watching me and I had a great chance.”
The mention of the event reminded her. She turned to look at him.
“You sent me those tea roses, didn’t you?” she asked.
He nodded. “They should have been orchids,” he declared. “Would have been if I could have afforded the price. But you told me once that you liked those old-fashioned roses. Hope you did like ’em.”
“They were darlings. But you shouldn’t have given them to me.”
“Why not? I didn’t put my name on them, but I hoped you would guess. Nobody else guessed, did they?” he added, a trifle anxiously.
“No-o. No.... Well,” with a sudden turn of the subject. “I must go now. I think the portrait is splendid and I am glad I have seen it. Good afternoon.”
His change of expression was funny.