She smiled into his eyes, a trifle oddly.

"If you are, then I know someone who is burning to hear you,"

he avowed.

"Well, then, I think--I think . . . " she began, on a note of

deliberation. "But I 'm afraid, just now, it would take too

long to formulate my thought. Perhaps I'll try another day."

She gave him a derisory little nod--and in a minute was well up

the lawn, towards the castle.

Peter glared after her, his fists clenched, teeth set.

"You fiend!" he muttered. Then, turning savagely upon himself,

"You duffer!"

Nevertheless, that evening, he said to Marietta, "The plot

thickens. We've advanced a step. We've reached what the

vulgar call a psychological moment. She's seen my Portrait of

a Lady. But as yet, if you can believe me, she doesn't dream

who painted it; and she has n't recognised the subject. As if

one were to face one's image in the glass, and take it for

another's! 3--I 'll--I 'll double your wages--if you will

induce events to hurry up."

However, as he spoke English, Marietta was in no position to

profit by his offer.




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