Two or three times, Mrs.
Taine saw him glance quickly over his shoulder, as though expecting some
one. Once, for quite a moment, he deliberately turned from his easel to
stand at the window, looking up at the distant mountain peaks. Several
times, he seemed to be listening.
"May I talk?" she said at last.
"Why, certainly," he returned. "I want you to feel perfectly at ease. You
must be altogether at home here. Just let yourself go--say what you like,
with no conventional restraints whatever--consider me a mechanical
something that is no more than an article of furniture--be as thoroughly
yourself as if alone in your own room."
"How funny," she said musingly.
"Not at all"--he returned--"just a matter of business."
"But it _would_ be funny if I were to take you at your word," she replied;
suddenly breaking the pose and meeting his gaze squarely. "Is it--is it
quite necessary for the mechanical something to look at me like that?"
"I said that you were to _consider_ me as an article of furniture. I
didn't say that I _felt_ like a table or chair."
"Oh!"
"Don't look down; keep the pose, please," came somewhat sharply from the
man at the easel, as though he were mentally taking himself in hand.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120