"Charlie," repeated his cousin, with a kind of shocked disappointment in
her voice, "if you will not take such an absurd fraction of trouble when
I ask you--"
"My dear Mary," he said, turning quickly, "if you ask me on your own
account--"
"Of course I do. I ask it as a very personal favour. If you knew Kitty
Lascelles, it would be unnecessary to put it on that ground," returned
Mrs Marchmont, still keeping up a little air of dignity.
"I apologise a hundred times. What is it that Miss Lascelles wants?"
"A model--an Italian model."
"Man or woman?"
"Man."
"_Contadino_, broad hat, long cloak--the stock production, I suppose?"
"I suppose so," she said, looking at him doubtfully.
"All young ladies like that style of thing."
"Don't be overbearing. Miss Lascelles is an excellent artist. Her
father is one of the staff at the Military Hospital, and has fitted up a
studio for her, where she works with--a friend," she added, with an
imperceptible glance at Miss Aitcheson. "It is the most delightful
old-world place you can imagine. Shall I drive you there some day?"
"Thank you; you are very good," he said hastily, "but you must remember
that I am not an idle man. Besides, it is quite unnecessary; I am doing
this for you."
"And you can find just what she wants? I knew you would," said his
cousin triumphantly. Everitt reflected.
"I can put my hand at once on the best man in London for that sort of
thing," he said slowly. "When does she want him--on Monday, I suppose?"
"Yes. Why, however, do you suppose it?"
"Because ladies are impatient in art as in everything else, and while I
should spend a fortnight in selecting a good model, you would expect him
to grow out of the ground at your feet."
"If I had told you that I wanted him."
"I make my bow," Everitt returned. "Well, as it happens, the best man
in London for her purpose is coming here on Monday morning."
"That," said Mrs Marchmont, "is what I should have expected."
"He's a first-rate model, and an awful ruffian."
"He can't do any harm."
"Then, in spite of my character of him, you think Miss Lascelles would
wish him to be sent on to her?"
Mrs Marchmont smiled.
"I am sure she would--_coute que coute_."
"In that case, unless he is hopelessly drunk, I will forward him."
"That is really good of you," she said, getting up; "and to prove that
we are not ungrateful, we will go away this minute, and allow you to
begin another cigarette in peace. I shall tell Kitty that you have made
a solemn vow to provide the man she wants on Monday morning."
"I'll do my best," said Everitt.
"Oh, no limitations, please. If you can't get him, you will have to
find another. I have no doubt they run about quite tamely in this long
corridor of yours. Don't come any farther. I'm immensely obliged to
you, and so Miss Lascelles will be when she hears of the ruffian--won't
she, Bell?"
In spite of her request, Everitt walked with them to the carriage, which
waited in the street. When it had driven off, he turned back, lit his
cigarette, and paced up and down under the quaint little avenue. It had
never seemed more peaceful, or offered a tenderer contrast to the hot
exhausted-looking street outside. May had just begun; the delicate
green had burst out, and was clothing the dark boughs with delicious and
dainty lightness. A late sun was shining down on the little court, and
the feeling of spring was abroad. Everitt stopped and looked round
impatiently upon the houses.
"I can't stand this much longer, if the weather keeps fine," he said.
"It's waste--sheer waste. And those shoals of old women on Saturday
afternoons are becoming intolerable. I must break it off somehow. The
best I could do would be to shut up and be off to Pont-aven, or
somewhere where one hasn't a hundred and fifty interruptions. It would
be a good thing for Jack, who might find fewer excuses to be idle, and
it would stop having to provide models for young women who set up
studios when they ought to be drawing straight strokes. I know the sort
of thing--exactly. And unless I look out, Mary Marchmont will be making
elaborate arrangements that I should go and correct her drawings. May
the fates avert that! I'll provide this one model, and there my
engagements begin and end."