"On business! Now, Basil, do you pretend to me that she only comes to have you paint her portrait?"
"You're not very flattering to my art," said Basil, with an air of pique. "Now comes out what you really think about me! Du sprichst ein grosses Wort gelassen aus."
"You know what I mean. You're an artist, but those women don't know it. What do they care about a portrait that won't flatter them and that isn't signed by a big name? Mrs. Perry will put hers in the garret, when she's tired of you."
"Let her, so long as she pays me for it," said Basil easily. "Do you think I make love to her while I'm painting?"
"No, but she makes love to you and you encourage her. You wouldn't rebuff any woman. Even if you didn't like her, you'd be too afraid of looking ridiculous! Your vanity, Basil, will be my death."
Teresa's liking for light phrases had very much lightened the discussion. They both laughed. She took up her champagne-glass and he touched it with his.
"To the most charming woman in the world," he said.
"You do well to make her anonymous—but I'll drink it, for your sake. May you be happy!"
"I am," he said over the rim of his glass.
