"What an imprudence," he called out, "when I'd just been booming you! Now you come up in person to spoil everything."
Ludlow presented his petition, and Mrs. Maybough received it with her provisional anxiety till he named the day for the visit. She said she had an engagement for Saturday afternoon, and Ludlow ventured, "Then perhaps you'd let the young ladies come with a friend of mine: Mrs. Westley. She'll be glad to call for them, I'm sure."
"Mrs. General Westley?"
"Yes."
"We met them in Rome," said Mrs. Maybough. "I shall be very happy, indeed, for my daughter. But you know Miss Saunders—is not staying with us?"
"Miss Saunders will be very happy for herself," said Charmian.
The men took their leave, and Charmian seized the first moment to breathe in Cornelia's ear: "Oh, what luck! I didn't suppose he would do it, when I got Mr. Plaisdell to hint about that Manet. And it's all for you. Now come into my room and tell me everything about it. You have got to stay for dinner."
"No, no; I can't," Cornelia gasped. "And I'm not going to his studio. He asked me because he had to."
"I should think he did have to. He talked to you as if there was no one else here. How did you meet him before? When did you?" She could not wait for Cornelia to say, but broke out with fresh astonishment. "Why, Walter Ludlow! Do you know who Walter Ludlow is? He's one of the greatest painters in New York. He's the greatest!"
"Who is Mr. Wetmore?" Cornelia asked evasively.