"I hope you have made it as beautiful as Elfrida is," she cried, with sharp self-reproof. "It must have been difficult to do that."
"I have made it—what she is, I think," he answered, again with that sudden gravity. "It is so like my conception of her which I have never felt permitted to explain to you, that I feel as if I had stolen a march upon her. You must see it. When will you come? It goes in the day after to-morrow, but I can't wait for your opinion till it's hung."
"I like your calm reliance upon the Committee," Janet laughed. "Suppose—"
"I won't. It will go on the line," Kendal returned confidently. "I did nothing last year that I will permit to be compared with it. Will you come to-morrow?"
"Impossible; I haven't two consecutive minutes to-morrow.
We sail, you know, on Thursday."
Kendal looked at her blankly. "You sail? On Thursday?"
"I am going to America, Lady Halifax and I. And Elizabeth, of course. We are to be away a year. Lady Halifax is buying tickets, I am collecting light literature, and Elizabeth is in pursuit of facts. Oh, we are deep in preparation. I thought you knew."
"How could I possibly know?"
"Elfrida didn't tell you, then?"
"Did she know?"