In London, evening was gradually creeping on. The mellow light that had
penetrated into the studio in Fitzroy Square was fast fading, still Jack
Egerton worked on in silence, glancing constantly across at the woman
who sat motionless before him, straining her eyes over a novel she held
in her hand.
Frequently he paused, and, stepping back a few paces, examined the
effect of his work with a critical eye, comparing it with the original.
Then he returned and retouched the picture again and again, until at
last, after much perseverance, he apparently obtained the exact effect
he desired. The picture was certainly attractive, and, although
incomplete, yet fully sustained the artist's reputation for faithful
delineation of the female form. It was a representation of Dolly Vivian
reclining on a silken divan, attired in the flimsy gauzes, with rows of
sequins across her forehead, heavy bangles upon her wrists and ankles,
and her light brown hair, unbound, falling negligently about her
shoulders. One tiny crimson slipper had fallen off, revealing a
well-shaped naked foot, the other being bent under her as she lay with
one bare arm flung over her head.
Her attitude of languor and repose among her cushions added to the
Oriental character of the picture, and the richness of the silk with
which the couch was covered, enhanced her beauty.