"It would be the general public who would appreciate me if I were to grin through a horse-collar at a fair," whispered Clem in return.
"Is not that the truest test of appreciation?" asked Cecilia, pointing with brightened eyes and glowing cheeks to the tiny ticket stuck in the frame. For the first time since entering the building she had now thrown back her veil. Clem thought he had never seen her look so lovely as at that moment.
"You see, dear, there are still a few people in the world with more money than brains," he said, quietly. "What would become of us poor painters if Providence had not kindly arranged matters so?"
"I wonder what your secret admirer would say if he could hear you giving utterance to such heresies."
"Were my secret admirer here I would thank him for one thing, if for no other."
"May I ask what the one thing is that you would thank him for?"
"For enabling me, by the purchase of my picture, to get married at midsummer. Bless him for a good man!"
As Cecilia said afterwards to Mora, "I was struck dumb. All that I could do was to let my veil drop and move on. When I instructed Checkly to buy the pictures for me, I never dreamed that from a cause so simple an event so dire would spring. Perhaps it is fortunate for us that we can so rarely foresee all the consequences of our actions."
"Supposing for a moment," said Mora, slyly, "that the gift of foreknowledge had been yours in this case, would you or would you not have bought the picture?"
Cecilia gazed silently out of the window for a few moments. "I don't know what I should have done," she said at last. "I certainly object to being married at midsummer, but, on the other hand, if Clem's picture had not been sold, what a disappointment it would have been to him."