"I'd like to have you let me make a sketch of you some day, Mrs. Witla," MacHugh said to Angela when she came back to the fire. He was essaying portraiture as a side line and he was anxious for good opportunities to practice.
Angela thrilled at the invitation, and the use of her new name, Mrs. Witla, by Eugene's old friends.
"I'd be delighted," she replied, flushing.
"My word, you look nice, Angel-Face," exclaimed Marietta, catching her about the waist. "You paint her with her hair down in braids, Mr. MacHugh. She makes a stunning Gretchen."
Angela flushed anew.
"I've been reserving that for myself, Peter," said Eugene, "but you try your hand at it. I'm not much in portraiture anyhow."
Smite smiled at Marietta. He wished he could paint her, but he was poor at figure work except as incidental characters in sea scenes. He could do men better than he could women.
"If you were an old sea captain now, Miss Blue," he said to Marietta gallantly, "I could make a striking thing out of you."
"I'll try to be, if you want to paint me," she replied gaily. "I'd look fine in a big pair of boots and a raincoat, wouldn't I, Eugene?"
"You certainly would, if I'm any judge," replied Smite. "Come over to the studio and I'll rig you out. I have all those things on hand."