"I hardly flatter myself her comfort depends on which particular hemisphere I happen to be in." Miss Oliphant, as it happened, had taken to a spell of hard work in her studio, and was not visible all the evening.

She was, in fact, making a copy of the portrait Roger had lent her, and the work interested her greatly.
This bold, fearless, almost insolent, boy's face fascinated her.

She seemed to be able to interpret the defiance that flashed in his eye, and to solve the problem which gathered on his half-mocking lips.

She was half afraid, half enamoured of this old piece of canvas.
"Why are not you here now ?" she muttered as she gazed at it.

"You don't look like the sort of boy to die.