The dashing offhand brush was
like a young thoroughbred, that could not be pulled, let the jockey saw at
his mouth as he might. And yet the painter would have liked much to prolong
this easy intercourse with his sister. But after Clarissa's portrait was
finished, there was Miss Granger to be painted; and then they would want a
picture of that unapproachable baby, no doubt; and after that, perhaps,
Mr. Granger might consent to have his massive features perpetuated. Austin
considered that the millionaire should be good for three hundred guineas or
so; he had promised two hundred, and the painter was spending the money by
anticipation as fast as he could.
He came every other morning to the Rue de Morny, and generally stayed to
luncheon; and those mornings spent in his company were very pleasant to
Clarissa--as pleasant as anything could be which involved deception; there
was always the sting of that fact. Miss Granger was rarely absent for ten
minutes together on these occasions; it was only some lucky chance which
took her from the room to fetch some Berlin wool, or a forgotten skein of
floss silk for the perennial spaniels, and afforded the brother and sister
an opportunity for a few hurried words. The model villagers almost faded
out of Miss Granger's mind in this agreeable society. She found herself
listening to talk about things which were of the earth earthy, and was fain
to confess herself interested in the conversation.
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