this question, however, Miriam interposed irrelevantly with one of her own. "Do you mind telling me if you made your sister go off with Mr. Sherringham because you knew it was about time for me to turn up? Poor Mr. Dormer, I get you into trouble, don't I?" she added sympathetically.
"Into trouble?" echoed Nick, looking at her head but not at her eyes.
"Well, we won't talk about that!" Miriam exclaimed, with a rich laugh.
Nick now hastened to say that he had nothing to do with his sister's leaving the studio—she had only come, as it happened, for a moment. She had walked away with Peter Sherringham because they were cousins and old friends: he was to leave England immediately, for a long time, and he had offered her his company going home. Mrs. Rooth shook her head very knowingly over the "long time" that Mr. Sherringham would be absent—she plainly had her ideas about that; and she conscientiously related that in the course of the short conversation they had all had at the door of the house her daughter had reminded Miss Dormer of something that had passed between them in Paris in regard to the charming young lady's modelling her head.
"I did it to make the question of our meeting less absurd—to put it on the footing of our both being artists. I don't ask you if she has talent," said Miriam.
"Then I needn't tell you," answered Nick.
"I'm sure she has talent and a very refined inspiration. I see something in that corner, covered with a mysterious veil," Mrs. Rooth insinuated; which led Miriam to ask immediately:
