tunately each, like the floor and everything else in the studio, was covered with a thick layer of black dust; and as she saw him grow grimier and grimier, an expression of acute anguish deepened and deepened on Pollyooly's face.
At last Hilary Vance perceived it and said, "What's the matter, Pollyooly? Why are you unhappy?"
"Oh, sir, it is so dirty," said Pollyooly.
"What is so dirty?" said Hilary Vance in a tone of lively surprise.
"Everything," said Pollyooly.
Hilary Vance looked round the studio and the expression of surprise deepened on his face: "So it is," he said. "Curious—I never noticed it. Mrs. Thomas must neglect it."
"I expect she's an old woman who drinks," said Pollyooly thoughtfully, but with grave conviction.
"Now, that's an admirable description of Mrs. Thomas!" cried Hilary Vance in even greater surprise. "How on earth did you guess it?"
"They're generally like that, sir," said Pollyooly in the tone of one who has had wide experience. "Can I clean it after I've done sitting?"
