The Brother of Daphne Part 37

"There now," I said musingly. "It must have been just about then."

George seized me by the arm. "Has she been and gone?" he cried.

"Well, I don't know. But about an hour ago a girl did come here. Now I come to think, she was something like the picture. I thought she was a model, and--"

George flung up his hands with a cry. I stopped and looked at him.

"Go on," he said excitedly. "What did she say?"

"Yes, I know it was about then, because a van had just gone up the street. You know. One of those big vans with--"

"d.a.m.n the van!" said George. "What did she say?"

"She didn't say anything. I tell you, I thought she was a model. I just said you didn't want one this morning."

George literally recoiled.

"What's the matter?" said I. "Aren't you well?"

"Had she a lilac dress on?" he cried, with the air of one hoping against hope.

"Er--yes," said I.

At that, George uttered a terrible cry, s.n.a.t.c.hed up his coat, and before I could stop him, rushed out of the studio. I put my head out of the window. As he dashed hatless out of the front door:

"Where are you going?" I said.

He threw me a black look. Then: "To wire an apology," he said.

I turned to find my lady at my shoulder.

"He's gone to wire you an apology," I said.

"You are wicked," she said. "Poor Mr. Larel. I feel quite--"

I put my head on one side and regarded her. "Nice kid, though," I said.

"I know," she said severely. "But the poor man--"

"She's taken quite a fancy to me," said I.

She drew back, biting a red lip and trying hard not to smile.

"He'll soon be back," I went on, "and then you're going to have your show. Kindly ascend the throne. All queens do sooner or later.

"Really, I think he's had enough," she said, settling herself in the high-backed chair.

After a little argument:

"All you've got to remember," I said, "is that you're awfully sorry you're so late, and that the truth is you forgot all about the sitting, and that, by the way, when you got here, you met a man going out, and that you don't know who he was, but you suppose it was alright. Only you thought Mr. Larel ought to know."

"I've never met anyone like you before."

"My dear, you never will. I am unique. And remember you've taken rather a fancy---- Here he is. Yes, queens always have their hands kissed. All real queens..."

I seized my hat, stick, and gloves, and faded behind the curtains. She was really wonderful. "Mr. Larel, will you ever forgive me? I'm most awfully sorry. D'you know I quite forgot. I suppose you'd given me up? And now it's too late. Oh, yes. I only came to apologize. I can't think--"

George couldn't get a word in edgeways. I watched him through the crack of the curtains. His face was a study. Of course, he was mentally cursing himself for sending the wire so precipitately, and wondering how the deuce he could explain its arrival without revealing the true state of affairs. Apparently in the end he decided for the moment, at any rate, to say nothing about it, for, as soon as she let him speak, he a.s.sured her it didn't matter at all, and pa.s.sed, somewhat uneasily, direct to the weather.

"By the way," said Margery suddenly, "there was a man here when I came.

I suppose it was all right."

George started. "You mean him?" he said, pointing to my portrait.

"That?" cried Margery. "The man you're painting? Oh, no. It wasn't him. At least," she added, leaning forward and looking carefully at the picture, "I don't think so."

"But it must have been," cried George. "He was here five minutes ago, and no other man--it must have been him."

"But the one I saw was clean-shaven," said Margery.

George pointed to my portrait with a shaking finger. "Isn't that one clean-shaven?" he wailed.

"So it is," said Margery. "For the moment, the shadow--"

"I'll never paint again!" said George fiercely. "They've hung over each other's portraits for a week--" "Oh!" cried Margery. "And the first time they see one another, they don't know one another from Adam."

"Did you find the post office all right?" said I. Then I came out.

"One thing," said Margery. "Did the Tube stick?"

George stared at her. "Then you were here," he gasped.

"All the time," said I. Margery broke into long laughter.

George regarded us darkly. "You two," he said.

"One hour and ten minutes," said I. "To say nothing of asking us both on the same day."

"You two," said George.

"We two give you five minutes," I said. "Of these, three may be conveniently occupied by your full and abject apology, and two by the arranging of our next sittings. Then we two are going to lunch. It is, ah, some time since we two breakfasted."

I made a careful note of Margery's sittings-to-be, as well as of my own.

As we were going: "You know, old chap," said I, "you've never apologized."

"Miss Cicester knows that I am her humble servant."