It was rather odd that it should have been possible to hit off anything so definite, so almost matter-of-fact, in a mere sketch.
"I suppose it was because I didn't try for too much," he said aloud. "The sketch was only a hint."
As he turned his eyes from May's face to that of her sister, it was hardly more than a glance he bestowed upon the latter. He was impressed with the fact that it was impossible to subject the nevertheless perfectly unconscious countenance, whose eyes met his so frankly, to the candid scrutiny he had given her sister.
"I'm afraid I shouldn't succeed as well with you," he remarked.
"I wouldn't try, if I were you," Pauline laughed; "I can't get even a photograph that my friends will accept. Have you any good portrait of your mother?"
"No; Kenwick tried her two years ago, but it wasn't a go."
"Of course not."
