bye and went on up the hall. There in the bare room where Basil did his calm, persevering, ardent work, was the portrait of Mrs. Perry, the figure indicated by blotches of violet colour, the face quite definite. Even in Basil's impressionistic sketch it might be guessed that she was handsome. The painted eyes fascinated Teresa, and she was studying them when Basil came abruptly in. His face lighted up at sight of her with a quick pleasure that made him look boyish, and a feeling of relief gave impetuous energy to his greeting.
"Dearest—sweetheart! Where did you come from?" he cried gaily, taking her round the waist. "You're late."
Teresa bent slightly away from him and said neutrally:
"I've been waiting in Erhart's place for half an hour. It's you who are late. You said you'd be ready at five."
"By Jove, I didn't notice the time! The light was so good, and the whole thing went so well that I never thought of stopping. And, besides, I expected you to come in any minute. Why didn't you?"
"I didn't want to interrupt you," said Teresa, coldly, slipping away from his arm.
"Oh, nonsense … What's the matter, dearest? What have I done—are you angry with me?"
