“I'm not so sure about that,” said Norma.
“I am,” said Connie.
Jimmie was wandering away from the refreshment-table when Theodore Weever stopped him.
“That's a famous portrait of yours, Mr. Padgate. I saw it to-day after lunch. I offer you my congratulations.”
Jimmie thanked him, said modestly that he hoped it was a good likeness.
“Too good by a long chalk,” laughed the American. “Her Serene Skinflint does n't deserve it. I bet you she beat you down like a market-woman haggling for fish.”
Jimmie stuck his hands on his hips and laughed.
“You don't deny it. You should n't have let her. She is rolling in money.”
“I am afraid one does n't bother much with the commercial side of things,” said Jimmie.
“That's where you make the mistake. Money is money, and it is better in one's own pockets than in anybody else's. But that's not what I wanted to speak to you about. I wonder if you would let me have the pleasure of calling at your studio some day? I'm collecting a few pictures, and I should regard it as a privilege to be allowed to look round yours.”