“Oh! So that's the explanation, is it?” Sara felt unaccountably relieved.
“Yes—though goodness knows how she has beguiled any one into buying one of her daubs!”
“Oh, they're quite good, really, Doctor Dick. It's only that Futurist Art doesn't appeal to you.”
“Not exactly! She showed me one of her paintings the other day. It looked like a bad motor-bus accident in a crowded street, and she told me that it represented the physical atmosphere of a woman who had just been jilted.”
Sara laughed suddenly and hysterically.
“How—how awfully funny!” she said in an odd, choked voice. Then, fearful of losing her self-command, she added hastily: “I'll write and tell Elisabeth that I'll come, then.” And fled out of the room.
CHAPTER XIV
ELISABETH INTERVENES
As Sara stepped out of the train at Paddington, the first person upon whom her eyes alighted was Tim Durward. He hastened up to her.