to paint you.

Mrs. Tremaine.

I am so glad if I have been of any use. Have you ever painted
Constance?

Denham.

I have tried; but she's a fidgety sitter, and always looks like an
incarnation of despair. (_He approaches her._) May I arrange these
folds a little?

Mrs. Tremaine.

Certainly.

Denham.

(_arranging skirt of dress_) That will do. The fan so--head a
_little_ more to the left--so. (_He goes back, and paints in silence
again._) This is coming splendidly. I dare not do much more to the
head.

Mrs. Tremaine.

Can you finish it to-day?

Denham.