'Swimmingly. But you've only just begun. Next time the sitting must be longer.'
'Will you—will you come in to tea?'—she asked him shyly. 'My sister would be very glad.'
'Many thanks—but I am afraid I can't. I shall be motoring back to Carton to-night. To-morrow is one of my hospital days. I told you how I divided my week, and salved my conscience.'
He smiled down upon her from his great height, his reddish gold hair and beard blown by the wind, and she seemed to realise him as a great, manly, favouring presence, who made her feel at ease.
Hester Martin had already vanished over the bridge, and Farrell and Nelly strolled back more leisurely towards the lodgings, he carrying her canvas sketching bag.
On the way she conveyed to him her own and Bridget's acceptance of the
Carton invitation.
'If Miss Farrell won't mind our clothes—or rather our lack of them! I did mean to have my wedding dress altered into an evening dress—but!——'
She lifted her hand and let it fall, in a sad significant gesture which pleased his fastidious eye.
'You hadn't even the time of the heart for it? I should think not!' he said warmly. 'Who cares about dress nowadays?'
'Your sister!' thought Nelly—but aloud she said—