"Well, it may turn up. Thanks for the canvas. To tell you the truth I rather wanted it. Merely as painting it's—knuk!" Billy made a delectable little foreign gesture.
"I'm no judge of things as painting," said Louie. "And—I say—Billy——"
"I don't know that I haven't changed my mind about not sitting—if you asked me very nicely——"
But Billy looked gravely at her again. "Oh, it doesn't matter. I'd rather you didn't. I think I can manage. You'd do far better——"
He looked hard at her, but the code held.
"To do what?" said Louie.
"Well, not to sit," said Billy, turning away.
Louie felt ridiculously touched; nevertheless, much as she liked his loyalty, she wasn't going to talk about Roy. "Thanks, Bill," she said simply. "You're a good sort." And there the matter dropped. Neither for Billy nor for anybody else did she ever sit again.
It seemed strange that so slight a thing as an indisposition of Mr. Stonor should obscure the mock-sun of Louie's gaiety as if a vapour had crept across it; but so it was. Occasionally urgent messages were taken to Iddesleigh Gate at night; usually Mr. Stonor took them; but one day Mr. Stonor left at lunch-time and did not come back that day. Sir Julius himself, who had had dinner sent in that night from a restaurant, sent for Louie and gave her certain papers and instructions. As soon as she learned the errand she asked whether nobody else could go instead. She invented an improbable engagement.