‘But Jael did not have a friend to help her in that way,’ said Miss Van Siever.

At the end of an hour and a half the two ladies retired, and Jael disrobed herself, and Miss Van Siever put on her customary raiment.  It was agreed among them that they had commenced their work auspiciously, and that they would meet again on the following Monday.  The artist begged to be allowed an hour to go on with his work in Mrs Broughton’s room, and thus the hour was conceded to him.  It was understood that he could not take the canvas backwards and forwards with him to his own house, and he pointed out that no progress whatever could be made, unless he were occasionally allowed some such grace as this.  Mrs Broughton doubted and hesitated, made difficulties, and lifted up her hands in despair.  ’It is easy for you to say, Why not? but I know very well why not?’ But at last she gave way.  ‘Honi soit qui mal y pense,’ she said; ‘that must be my protection.’  So she followed Miss Van Siever downstairs, leaving Mr Dalrymple in possession of her boudoir.  ’I shall give you just one hour,’ she said, ’and then I shall come and turn you out.’  So she went down, and, as Miss Van Siever would not stay to lunch with her, she ate her lunch by herself, sending a glass of sherry and a biscuit up to the poor painter at his work.

Exactly at the end of the hour she returned to him.  ’Now, Conway, you must go,’ she said.

‘But why in such a hurry?’

’Because I say that it must be so.  When I say so, pray let that be sufficient.’  But still Dalrymple went on painting.

‘Conway,’ she said, ‘how can you treat me with such disdain?’

‘Disdain, Mrs Broughton!’

’Yes, disdain.  Have I not begged you to understand that I cannot allow you to remain here, and yet you pay no attention to my wishes.’

‘I have done now’; and he began to put his brushes and paints together.  ‘I suppose all these things may remain here?’

’Yes; they may remain.  They must do so, of course.  There; if you will put the easel in the corner, with the canvas behind it, they will not be seen if he should chance to come into the room.’

‘He would not be angry, I suppose, if he should see them?’

’There is no knowing.  Men are so unreasonable.  All men are, I think.  All those are whom I have had the fortune to know.  Women generally say that men are selfish.  I do not complain so much that they are selfish as that they are thoughtless.  They are headstrong and do not look forward to results.  Now you—­I do not think you would willingly do me an injury?’

‘I do not think I would.’

’I am sure you would not;—­but yet you would forget to save me from one.’

‘What injury?’

’Oh, never mind.  I am not thinking of anything in particular.  From myself, for instance.  But we will not talk about that.  That way madness lies.  Tell me, Conway;—­what do you think of Clara Van Siever?’