however, apparently discovered some light mockery in it, and she broke out incongruously:
"I haven't wanted so much to see it. I don't care for her so much as that."
"So much as that?"
"I don't care for his actress—for that vulgar creature. I don't like her!" said Biddy, unexpectedly.
Peter stared. "I thought you hadn't seen her."
"I saw her in Paris—twice. She was wonderfully clever, but she didn't charm me."
Sherringham quickly considered, and then he said benevolently: "I won't inflict the picture upon you then; we'll leave it alone for the present." Biddy made no reply to this at first, but after a moment she went straight over to the row of stacked canvases and exposed several of them to the light. "Why did you say you wished to go to the theatre to-night?" her companion continued.
Still the girl was silent; then she exclaimed, with her back turned to him and a little tremor in her voice, while she drew forth one of her brother's studies after the other: "For the sake of your company, Peter! Here it is, I think," she added, moving a large canvas with some effort. "No, no, I'll hold it for you. Is that the light?"
She wouldn't let him take it; she bade him stand off and allow her to place it in the right position. In this position she carefully presented it, supporting it, at the proper angle, from behind and showing her head and shoulders above it. From the moment his eyes rested on the picture Sherringham accepted this service without protest. Unfinished, simplified and in
