"Hello," he said, pleasantly, noticing for the first time that she was still in the studio.
"Have I disturbed you, Mr. Neville?"
"Not a bit. You never do any more than does Gladys." He glanced absently at the cat, then, facing his canvas, backed away from it, palette in hand.
For ten minutes he examined his work, shifting his position from minute to minute, until the change of positions brought him backed up beside Valerie, and his thigh brushing her arm made him aware of her. Glancing down with smiling apology his eye fell on the wax, and was arrested. Then he bent over the work she had done, examining it, twirled the top of the stool, and inspected it carefully from every side.
"Have you ever studied modelling, Miss West?"
"No," she said, blushing, "you must know that I haven't." And looked up expecting to see laughter in his eyes; and saw only the curiosity of interest.
"How did you know how to start this?"
"I have often watched you."
"Is that all the instruction you've ever had in modelling?"
She could not quite bring herself to believe in his pleasant seriousness: