He scrutinized it in mingled wonder and delight.
"How perfect! how spirited! how beautiful!" he cried. "You must have real talent!"
"Thank you!" she answered, with a slight inclination of her head.
He stood watching the half-averted face a moment in silence. It had a slightly bored air, as if she wished he had not come, or that he would, at least, soon go.
"You are very brave, Miss West, sitting here all alone among these graves," he said, after that momentary pause.
"Did you leave your friends to come back and tell me that?" inquired she, with delicate sarcasm.
"No-o," slowly; "I came back to ask a favor, Miss West."
"Indeed?" incredulously.
"Yes; and it is this: I should like to have that sketch. My friend, Lady Adela, is in raptures over that pile of old ruins. She would like to have a picture of it."
He was watching her closely. He was rewarded for his intent scrutiny by seeing an angry crimson flush the round cheek.