“Why can’t you finish it here? Haven’t you got it here?”
“Yes, but the Seine is not here.”
“Wouldn’t the Adour do? The river at Shoreham?”
“No; but the Thames might. My picture is really more English than French. There were a lot of willow trees there, and my picture represents a girl lying in a hammock, foot hanging over, showing such a pretty piece of black stocking. There are two men there, they are both swinging the hammock, but while one is looking at her ankle the other only sees her face.”
Sally laughed coarsely and evasively.
“What are you laughing at?” he asked, feeling a little nettled.
“Don’t you think people will think it rather improper?”
“Not at all. Why should they? The idea I wish to convey is that one man loves her truly for herself alone, the other only loves her b
