Her eyes lifted to his.
“She’s delightful! No self-consciousness, no showing off, and such vitality. And that hair and those elf’s eyes of hers thrill one.”
“And she likes you too, not a little.”
Eve coloured.
“Well, if she does, it’s like a bit of real life flying in through the narrow window of little worries, and calling one out to play.”
“Little worries?”
“I don’t want to talk about them—the importunities of the larder, and the holes in the house-linen, and the weekly bills. I am always trying to teach myself to laugh. And it is very good for one to be among flowers.”
He glanced at the easel.
“You have covered up the picture. May I see it?”
“It is not quite finished. In twenty minutes——”