Give and take — it's simple enough, you see!"

Here was frankness with a vengeance, and I fell
back upon silence, whereupon a pause ensued, to
my share of which I imparted the deepest shadow
of disapproval within my power. Unfortunately,



CHAPTER FIFTEEN 201

she did not look at me; my eflfort passed with no
other effect than to make some of my facial muscles
ache.
" 'Portrait of Miss E., by George Ward, H. C.,' "
this painfully plain-speaking young lady continued
presently. "On the line at next spring's Salon,
then packed up for the dear ones at home. I'd
as soon own an 'Art Bronze,' myself — or a nice,
clean porcelain Arab."

"No doubt you've forgotten for the moment,"
I said, "that Mr. Ward is my friend."

"Not in painting, he isn't," she returned quickly.
"I consider his work altogether creditable; it's
carefully done, conscientious, effective "

"Isn't that true of the ladies in the hairdressers'
windows?" she asked with assumed artlessness.
"Can't you say a kind word for them, good gentle-
man, and heaven bless you?"

"Why sha'n't I be asked to Quesnay again?"

She laughed. "You haven't seemed fanatically
appreciative of your opportunities when you have
been there; you might have carried ier off from
Cresson Ingle rustead of vice versa. But after
all, you arenH" — ^here she paused and looked at
me appraisingly for a moment — "you aren't the



?02 THE GUEST OF QUESNAY

most piratical dash-in-and-dash-out and leave-every-
thiag-upside-down-behind-you sort of man, are
you?"

"No, I believe I'm not."

"However, that's only a small half of the reason,"
Miss Elliott went on. "She's furious on account of
this."

These were vague words, and I said so.
