Her tone drew him round. Jean, forgotten by both, discerned that he also attached a significance to the hypothetical visit. She was at a loss to account for this, Mrs. Joyce-Reeves's prominence in the social world of New York notwithstanding.
"Is this your news, Julie?" he demanded.
His sister savored his quickened interest a moment.
"Part of it," she replied. "She saw your dry-point of me at Mrs. Quentin Van Ostade's the other day."
"The dry-point!" he deprecated. "It was only an experiment."
"So I told her. She asked if you do anything in the way of portraiture in oil, and of course I answered yes."
"I say!"
"Well, haven't you?"
"Trash, yes; cart-loads of it."
"Perhaps you call your portrait of Malcolm MacGregor trash? Mrs. Joyce-Reeves did not."