"Yes," he said, trying desperately to collect his wits. The well-balanced phrases conned while walking up the avenue had vanished in a hopeless blur at the instant they were needed. His mind was in a whirl.
"I am Miss Manning," she continued. "It is hardly possible to receive visitors at the house this afternoon, and as I happened to be coming out when Mrs. Bates telephoned from the lodge, I thought you would have no objection to telling me here why you wish to see me."
"I have come to apologize for my action this morning," he said.
"What action?"
"I sketched you without your knowledge, and, of course, without your permission."
"You sketched me? Where?"
"When you were swimming in the lake."
"You didn't dare!"
"I did. I'm sorry now, though you inspired the best picture I have ever painted, or shall ever paint."
For an instant Sylvia forgot her personal troubles in sheer wonderment, and a ghost of a smile brightened her white cheeks. John Trenholme was a person who inspired confidence at sight, and her first definite emotion was one of surprise that he should look so disconsolate.