" She laughed shortly. "It reminds
one a little of that dinner at our house. Don't you think? It's the girl
with the violin, I suppose."
"There are no portraits in it, Mrs. Taine," said the artist, quietly.
"No? Well, I think you'd better stick to your portraits. This is a great
picture though," she admitted thoughtfully. "It, it grips you so. I can't
seem to get away from it. I can see that it will create a sensation. But
just the same, I don't like it. It's not nice, like your portrait of me.
By the way"--and she turned eagerly from the big canvas as though glad to
escape a distasteful subject--"do you remember that I have never seen my
picture yet? Where do you keep it?"
The painter indicated another easel, near the one upon which he was at
work, "It is there, Mrs. Taine."
"Oh," she said with a pleased smile. "You keep it on the easel, still!"
Playfully, she added, "Do you look at it often?--that you have it so
handy?"
"Yes," said the artist, "I must admit that I have looked at it
frequently." He did not explain why he looked at her portrait while he was
working upon the larger picture.
"How nice of you," she answered "Please let me see it now. I remember when
you wanted to repaint it, you said you would put on the canvas just what
you thought of me; have you? I wonder!"
"I would rather that you judge for yourself, Mrs.
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