“Perhaps you will allow me to say—though I’m no expert, and my opinion may therefore have no value in your eyes—but you’ve painted a portrait such as one very seldom sees nowadays.”
“D’you mean you think it’s fine?”
“Very fine! Wonderful!”
Garstin’s usually hard face softened in an extraordinary way.
“Your opinion goes down in my memory in red letters.”
Sir Seymour turned to go. As he did so he cast a look round the studio, which suggested to Garstin that he would perhaps like to examine the other portraits dotted about on easels and hanging on the walls. A faint reddish line appeared in the painter’s shaven blue cheeks.
“Not worth your while!” he almost muttered.
“Eh?” said Sir Seymour.
“A lot of decadent stuff. I’ve been choosing my models badly. But—” he paused, looking almost diffident for a moment.
“Yes?” said Sir Seymour.