“I’ve got a lot to tell you,” she said, “if you won’t be bored.”
“You never bore me, Beryl.”
“No, I don’t believe I do. Well, first I must tell you how good Dick Garstin has been to me.”
“Garstin the painter?”
“Yes.”
And she enlarged upon her intense interest in painting, her admiration for Garstin’s genius, her curiosity about his methods and aims, her passion for understanding the arts although she could not create herself. Lady Sellingworth, who knew the girl’s genuine interest in all art developments, listened quite convinced of Beryl’s sincerity. Arabian was never mentioned. Miss Van Tuyn did not go into details. She spoke only of models, of Garstin’s varying moods, of his way of getting a thing on to canvas, of his views on colour and technique.
“It must be absorbingly interesting to watch such a man at work,” Lady Sellingworth said presently.
“It is. It’s fascinating.”
“And so that is the reason why you are staying so long in smoky old London?”
“No, Adela, it isn’t. At least, that’s not the only reason.”