"
"I think that also makes it worse!"
Longueville was at last nettled. The young lady's perversity was perhaps
not exactly malignant; but it was certainly ungracious. She seemed to
desire to present herself as a beautiful tormentress.
"How does it make it worse?" he asked, with a frown.
He believed she was clever, and she was certainly ready. Now, however,
she reflected a moment before answering.
"That you should give us your sketch," she said at last.
"It was to your mother I offered it," Longueville observed.
But this observation, the fruit of his irritation, appeared to have no
effect upon the young girl.
"Is n't it what painters call a study?" she went on. "A study is of use
to the painter himself. Your justification would be that you should keep
your sketch, and that it might be of use to you."
"My daughter is a study, sir, you will say," said the elder lady in a
little, light, conciliating voice, and graciously accepting the drawing
again.
"I will admit," said Longueville, "that I am very inconsistent. Set it
down to my esteem, madam," he added, looking at the mother.
"That 's for you, mamma," said his model, disengaging her arm from her
mother's hand and turning away.
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