To Eve Carfax it appeared part of the whimsical and senseless spirit of such a gathering that she should be carried up against Gertrude Canterton, whose great joy was to exercise the power of patronage.
“Miss Carfax, Mr. Canterton seems so pleased with your paintings. I am sure you are being of great use to him.”
As a matter of fact, Canterton had hardly so much as mentioned Eve’s art to his wife, and Eve herself felt that she had nothing to say to Gertrude Canterton. Her pride hardened in her and refused to be cajoled.
“I am glad Mr. Canterton likes my work.”
“I am sure he does. Have you studied much in town?”
“For two or three years. And I spent a year in Paris.”
“Indeed!”
Gertrude Canterton’s air of surprise was unconsciously offensive.
“Do you ever paint portraits?”
“I have tried.”