I was very untidy as I had been busy settling up, and my hair was all mussed up and my hands dirty. I had on my painting apron, and that was smudged over, too. I felt ashamed of my appearance, but Colonel Stevens said:
Then he introduced us. His friend’s name was Davidson.
“We were on our way to the Club,” said the Colonel, “and as we passed your place I saw your sign, and ‘By Gad,’ I said, ‘I believe that is my little friend, Marion.’ Now Mr. Davidson is very much interested in art.” He gave a little wink at Mr. Davidson, and then went on, “and I think he wants to buy some of your paintings.”
“Oh, sit down,” I urged. Customers at once! I was excited and happy. I pushed out a big armchair near the fire and Colonel Stevens sat down, and seemed very much at home. Mr. Davidson followed me to where I had a number of little paintings on a shelf. I began to show them to him, pointing out the places, but he scarcely looked at them. Stretching out his hand, he picked up two and said:
“I’ll take these. How much am I to give you?”
“Charge him the full price, Marion,” put in the Colonel. “He’s a rich dog.”
“I get five dollars for two of that size,” I said.
“Well, we’ll turn it to ten for each,” smiled Mr. Davidson.
[Illustration: “Charge him the full price, Marion,” put in the Colonel. “He’s a rich dog.”]
“Tut, tut!” said Colonel Stevens, laughing. “They are worth more. She really is a very clever little girl, eh, Davidson?”
I felt uncomfortable and to cover my confusion I started to wrap the paintings.
“No, no, don’t bother,” said Mr. Davidson, “leave them here for the present. I’ll call another time for them. We have to go now.”
When Mr. Davidson shook hands with me he pressed my hand so that I could hardly pull it away, and just as they were passing out, who should come up the stairs but Reggie! When he saw Colonel Stevens and Mr. Davidson, his face turned perfectly livid, and he glared at them. The minute the door had closed upon them, he turned on me:
“What were those men doing here?” he demanded harshly.
My face got hot, and I felt guilty, though of what, I did not know.
“Well? Why don’t you answer me? What was that notorious libertine, Stevens, and that beast, Davidson, doing here?” he shouted, and then as still I did not answer him, he yelled: “Why don’t you answer me instead of standing there and staring at me, looking your guilt? God in heaven! have I been a fool about you? Have you been false to me then?”