Chapter FourFor a moment Roberta just stared at the man and he stared at her.
Then without thinking she said the first thing that came into her mind.
“I saw you on the train from New Orleans!”
He smiled and it made him look even more handsome.
“I had been South to sell a picture, but surely you are English?”
The way he spoke made Roberta feel that perhaps she had been indiscreet and quickly she looked away from him, moving, without realising she was doing so, towards the easel.
Only when she was standing in front of it and she could see the canvas, which was only half-finished, she exclaimed,
“But you are an Impressionist!”
In a surprised voice he asked as he crossed the room to stand beside her,
“What do you know about Impressionists?”
“I have seen their pictures in Paris.”
Aga
