"
"Certainly not. Take all the time you want! We've about finished anyway,
I guess." His coolness matched her own.
Another silence during which she painted furiously.
"I'm making a sketch of Pal holding the gaff," she ventured at length
when the strain had become too uncomfortable.
"So I see."
This second tentative effort at conversation having flickered and gone
out she bent again to her work, while Blair remained, looking down at
her, in his eyes mingled amusement and resentment. What had he done, he
wondered, to account for such a change? Or, perhaps, it was something he
had not done. He tried again.
"Aren't we going for our ride this morning? It's a glorious day, and I
have the refusal of the two best horses."
"No, I think not, - not this morning, thank you," she answered. In her
voice was the same crisp sweetness. "I haven't time!"
With a shrug of pure bewilderment he backed away, then lingered a moment
longer to watch the sketch take shape beneath her hurrying brush. That
was the particular moment Miss Hastings chose for the final reckless
stab.
"You're standing in my light," she said. "If you'd just as soon, please
do go away, Mr. Blair. It makes me nervous to have people looking over
my shoulder when I'm trying to paint.
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