old poem so called? The name fits him rather well. So magnificent, and worth so little!"
"His poverty does not affect me."
"Oh, if it were only his poverty—if it were only his pockets that are empty! Puts all his goods in his front-shop window—'In this style six and nine!' The sort of material I detest. But no man is a judge of another man's looks—never ask for his opinion."
"I did not. I expressed my own."
He gave his little dry laugh, which was more like a bark. "You have me there. One man has no business to speak of another. You are very sharp."
A smile played round the corners of her mouth. "I suppose a woman had need be. But I don't cut."
"There are wounds which are not intentional; you have the capacity of inflicting such." This, with a little complimentary bow, was his nearest approach to a piece of polite flummery. Then, like a snap-shot, "Shall you ride to morrow? I will wire to Colesover for my horse—come by train."
"I think not to-morrow. I shall be painting all the morning, and in the afternoon some people are coming here for lawn-tennis."
The following morning Elizabeth was seated before the half-finished portrait, which she had just placed on the easel. And the splendid Wybrowe, armour and all, was in his old pose, a few yards from her.
"It is very bad—very bad indeed," she said. "But I see where I was wrong now; before I only saw it was horrid. Your advice was good."
