In its former days it had been nothing but a rough
shed. They hardly recognised it now it was turned into a studio. Beata
went boldly in, and introduced her visitors. Her father was painting a
study of Romola for incorporation in a large historical picture. She was
standing on the throne, in a beautiful scarlet mediaeval costume, with
her long fair hair unbound and flowing like an amber waterfall down her
back. Mr. Castleton did not look at all pleased at being interrupted in
his work, but he glanced at his watch and nodded a reluctant permission
to Romola to relieve her pose. She came down from the platform,
stretching her tired arms.
"I'm supposed to be holding up a casket, and it's a horrid position to
keep," she explained. "May I go now, Dad? We want Mavis and Merle to take
us for a walk. I shan't be three seconds changing out of this costume.
You think the study is like me, Mavis? Show them the sketch for the
picture, Dad! Now you see where my place will be in it--just there.
Pages:
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86