Susie Boyd was so lazy that she could never be induced to occupy herself
with household matters and, while Margaret put the tea things away, she
began to draw the caricature which every new face suggested to her. She
made a little sketch of Arthur, abnormally lanky, with a colossal nose,
with the wings and the bow and arrow of the God of Love, but it was not
half done before she thought it silly. She tore it up with impatience.
When Margaret came back, she turned round and looked at her steadily.

'Well?' said the girl, smiling under the scrutiny.

She stood in the middle of the lofty studio. Half-finished canvases
leaned with their faces against the wall; pieces of stuff were hung
here and there, and photographs of well-known pictures. She had fallen
unconsciously into a wonderful pose, and her beauty gave her,
notwithstanding her youth, a rare dignity. Susie smiled mockingly.

'You look like a Greek goddess in a Paris frock,' she said.

'What have you to say to me?' asked Margaret, divining from the searching
look that something was in her friend's mind.

Susie stood up and went to her.

'You know, before I'd seen him I hoped with all my heart that he'd make
you happy. Notwithstanding all you'd told me of him, I was afraid. I
knew he was much older than you. He was the first man you'd ever known.
I could scarcely bear to entrust you to him in case you were miserable.'

'I don't think you need have any fear.'