'Did he,' I said, 'did he say anything about—about painters' models?'
'Yes,' she said, 'Mr. D'Arcy took me to an easel and showed me a picture. It was only the half-length of a woman; but it was a tragedy rendered fully by the expression on one woman's face.
'"I had no idea," I said, "that any picture of a single face could do such work as that. Was this painted from a model?"
'"Yes," he said, with a smile, which was evidently at my ignorance of art. "It was painted from life."
'There were four other half-lengths in the room, all of them very beautiful.
'"Two of these," he said, "are copies; the originals have been sold.
The other two need still a few touches to make them complete."
'"And they were all painted from life?" I said.
'"Yes," he said. "Why do you repeat that question?"
'"Because," I said, "although they are all so wonderful and so beautiful in colour, I can see a great difference between them—I can scarcely say what the difference is. They are evidently all painted by the same artist, but painted in different moods of the artist's mind."
'"Ah," he said, "I am much interested. Let me see you classify them according to your view. There are, as you see, two brunettes and two blondes."