"Kitty," said her mother suddenly, "did you suspect anything?"
"Not yesterday," said the girl, lifting her clear true eyes to her
mother's. "But to-day I did feel uncomfortable. I noticed his hands
and his voice seemed different--not like that of a common man."
"What did he say?" Mrs Lascelles tried to speak indifferently.
"Oh, he spoke--why, if it were Mr Everitt, he spoke about himself. I
asked him, you know."
"Oh!" Mrs Lascelles might be forgiven for looking anxiously at her
daughter's sweet unconscious lace, and thinking that a man might peril a
good deal for a second sight of it.
But Kitty read a certain reproach in the look.
"Mother,"--earnestly--"I hadn't the smallest suspicion. Of course, I
treated him like any other model."
"Of course," said her mother, kissing her. "My dear, I am not blaming
you in the least. It is only an unfortunate beginning to have this idea
troubling one, even if, as I believe, Bell's imagination has run away
with her. I shan't like to leave you here alone. At any rate, did I
understand anything about another model coming in his place?"
"Yes; another man in the same costume."
"We will stop that, at any rate. We will certainly have no more models
of Mr Everitt's providing, be they who they may. But I don't want to
enter into communication with him; if, _if_ there is anything actual in
this absurd idea, he might make it an excuse for forcing an acquaintance
upon us. Still, we must stop the model somehow."
"Yes," said Kitty sadly, standing before her easel and regarding the
unfinished painting with the yearnings of an artist.
"Yes, indeed," said her mother, not quite entering into this; "and I'll
tell you what we will do. It was Mrs Marchmont who settled it for
you?"
"Yes."
"I will write and ask her to let Mr Everitt know that we do not require
another model. That will avoid any direct communication."
"I suppose it is the best plan."
"My poor Kitty! Unless you can arrange always to have some one to paint
with you, you had better keep to women. Now you must come, or those
ravenous children will be unmanageable."
All the rest of that day little Kitty was in a subdued mood. The more
she thought over slight incidents of each sitting, the more she became
convinced that Bell was right in her surmise. She had caught a glimpse
of a shirt-cuff which was spotlessly clean; she remembered that the
short trimness of his hair had struck her as inappropriate from the
first. Then his voice. On this second day, a certain gruffness, which
he had kept up on the first, quite disappeared; she had been surprised
to find him expressing himself like an English gentleman. Moreover, she
now recalled a momentary drawing back when she offered the money.
"I am glad I paid him; I am glad he had that to go through!" cried
Kitty, with burning cheeks, and a longing to heap some humiliation on
his head. "He must have hated it. I wonder what he did with the
money?"
If Kitty had known, her cheeks would certainly have burnt more fiercely
still; for Everitt had, with painful efforts, himself _sewn_ up the
money in a little case, and painted outside it the initials "K.L." and a
date.
This little case he will carry with him always--till his death.