Mr.Morewood was painting her portrait.
"I expect they've stayed to tea.

I haven't seen old Morewood for no end of a time.

Gad! I'll go to tea." And he got into a hansom and went, wondering with some amusement how Claudia had persuaded Morewood to paint her.

It turned out, however, that the transaction was of a purely commercial character.
Rickmansworth, having been very successful at the race-meeting above referred to, had been minded to give his sister a present, and she had chosen her own head on a canvas.

The price offered was such that Morewood could not refuse; but he had in the course of the sitting greatly annoyed Claudia by mentioning incidentally that her face did not interest him and was, in fact, such a face as he would never have painted but for the pressure of penury.
"Why doesn't it interest you ?" asked she, in pardonable irritation.
"I don't know.