“It’s lovely – is it not?” Lela asked him.
There was a little pause, and then she asked hesitatingly,
“Have you – decided to – buy the – sketch?”
“Of course I will buy the sketch, if it is genuine,” the Marquis, replied.
He was watching Lela’s face as he spoke, but she rose to her feet and walked across the room to stand at the window.
The sunshine immediately turned her hair to gold.
He thought that her profile silhouetted against the trees outside was more beautiful than anything a Dutch Master had ever portrayed on canvas.
In a voice that he could hardly hear she said after a moment,
“Aunt Edith is – very ill and – unless she has an operation she will – d-die.”
“I understand,” the Marquis said, “and I will give you my decision tomorrow.”
Lela turned to the window.
“Please,” s
