‘Ladywell, if I had half your power of going to your imagination for facts, I would be the greatest painter in England.’
‘Now Neigh—that’s too bad—but with regard to this matter, I do speak with some interest,’ said Ladywell, with a pleased sense of himself.
‘In love with her?—Smitten down?—Done for?’
‘Now, now! However, several other fellows chaff me about her. It was only yesterday that Jones said—’
‘Do you know why she cares to do this sort of thing?’
‘Merely a desire for fame, I suppose.’
‘I should think she has fame enough already.’
‘That I can express no opinion upon. I am thinking of getting her permission to use her face in a subject I am preparing. It is a fine face for canvas. Glorious contour—glorious. Ah, here she is again, for the second part.’
‘Dream on, young fellow. You’ll make a rare couple!’ said Neigh, with a flavour of superciliousness unheeded by his occupied companion.
Further back in the room were a pair of faces whose keen interest in the performance contrasted much with the languidly permissive air of those in front. When the ten minutes’ break occurred, Christopher was the first of the two to speak. ‘Well, what do you think of her, Faith?’ he said, shifting restlessly on his seat.