Wrandall didn't "trade in" everything else she
possessed for a single great Velasquez.
"Getting back to Sara,--my sister-in-law,--why don't you ask her to
sit for you this summer? She's not going out, you know, and time
will hang so heavily on her hands that she will even welcome another
portrait agony."
"I can't ask her to--"
"I'll do the asking, if you say the word."
"Don't be an ass."
"I'm quite willing to be one, if it will help you out, old man,"
said Leslie cheerfully.
"And make one of me as well, I suppose. She'd think me a frightful
cub after all those other fellows. After Sargent, ME! Ho, ho! She'd
laugh in my face."
"If you could paint that smile of hers, Brandy, you'd make Romney
look like an amateur. Most wonderful smile. It's a splendid idea.
Let her laugh in your face, as you say; then paint like the devil
while she's doing it, and your reputation is made for--"
"Will you have another drink?"
"No, thanks. I can change the subject without it. What time is it?"
Both looked at their watches, and put them back again without
remark to resume the interrupted contemplation of Fifth Avenue in
the waning light of a drab, drizzly day. A man in a shiny "slicker"
was pushing a sweep and shovel in the centre of the thoroughfare.
They wondered how long it would be before a motor struck him.
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