"If that had been hung at Burlington House, Warburton, it would have
been the picture of the year."
"I think it very likely."
"Yes, I know what you mean, you sarcastic old ruffian. But there's
another point of view. Is the drawing good or not? Is the colour
good or not? Of course you know nothing about it, but I tell you,
for your information, I think it's a confoundedly clever bit of
work. There remains the subject, and where's the harm in it? The
incident's quite possible. And why shouldn't the girl be
good-looking?"
"Angelic!"
"Well why not? There _are_ girls with angelic faces. Don't I know
one?"
Warburton, who had been sitting with a leg over the arm of his chair
suddenly changed his position.
"That reminds me," he said. "I came across the Pomfrets in
Switzerland."
"Where? When?"
"At Trient ten days ago. I spent three or four days with them.
Hasn't Miss Elvan mentioned it?"
"I haven't heard from her for a long time," replied Franks. "Well,
for more than a week. Did you meet them by chance?"
"Quite. I had a vague idea that the Pomfrets and their niece were
somewhere in Switzerland."
"Vague idea!" cried the artist "Why, I told you all about it, and
growled for five or six hours one evening here because I couldn't go
with them."
"So you did," said Warburton, "but I'm afraid I was thinking of
something else, and when I started for the Alps, I had really
forgotten all about it. I made up my mind suddenly, you know.
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