"Will a year do?" pleaded Jane-Anne.
"Three years," Mr. Wycherly maintained.
Jane-Anne sighed deeply. "Well, I promise—but if at the end of that time I find something that will really truly make it curl, without smelling horrible or burning or spoiling it——"
"Three years will do," said Mr. Wycherly.
That evening when she went to say good-night to him he read her "A Face," by Robert Browning.
"If one could have that little head of hers
Painted upon a background of pure gold...."
Jane-Anne listened, breathless, charmed. When he had finished he turned to her:
"That always makes me think of you, and I wish I could have you painted so. But you wouldn't be a bit like it if you had different hair."
Jane-Anne was silent for nearly two minutes; then she said thoughtfully:
"I rather like Browning's poetry after all. I'll quote a bit in my next scripture just to please Miss Willows."