"Mr De Rivaz means Janet Black," said Anne to her mother.
"I implore you to ask me to meet her," said the painter.
"But she is just going to be married," said the Duchess, with genuine regret. Here was an opportunity lost.
"I know it; it breaks my heart to know it," said De Rivaz. "But married or not, maid, wife, or widow, I must paint her. Give me the chance of making her acquaintance."
"I will do what I can," said the Duchess, gently tilting forward her square person on to its flat white satin feet, and looking with calculating approval at her daughter. Surely Anne had never looked so lovely as at this obviously propitious moment.
"Take a turn with me, young man," continued the Duchess, "and I will see what I can do. And Anne," she said with a backward glance at her daughter, "try and persuade Mr Vanbrunt to come to us in September."
"I will do my best," said Anne, and she sat down on the bench.
Stephen, who had risen when she joined them, looked at her with shy, angry admiration.