The north light cut across the
forehead, nose and chin which made his priceless profile. The canvas
itself, done on theory in a lesser light, looked dull and lifeless.
Hortense felt this herself. She did not see how she was going to key it up
in a single hour. As she considered among her brushes and tubes, she began
to feel nervous, and her temper stirred.
"You have a great capacity for being interested and amused," she said.
"Most men are like you. Especially young ones. They are amused, diverted,
entertained--and there it ends."
Cope felt the prick. "Well, we are bidden," he said; "and we come. Too many
of us have little to offer in return, except appreciation and goodwill. How
better appreciate such kindness as Mrs. Phillips' than by gratefully
accepting more of it?" (Stilted copy-book talk; and he knew it.)
"You haven't been accepting much of it lately," she returned, feeling the
point of a new brush. She spoke with the consciousness of empty evenings
that might have been full.
"Hardly," he replied. And he felt that this one word sufficed.
"Well, the coast will be clear after the twentieth of April.
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