Denham.

Come down and look at this thing now. I can do no more to it.

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_comes over to the easel, Denham puts down brush and palette_) But
this is splendid!

Denham.

(_taking pipe_) Better, isn't it? (_Crosses L, to table,
and strikes a match._)

Mrs. Tremaine.

Oh _yes_! But how you _have_ flattered me! I shall be reduced to a
proper humility when I look in the glass. (_Turns and glances at
mirror, then again at picture._)

Denham.

Never mind the glass. That's how I see you.

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_crosses C and drops him a curtsey_) Thank you, sir. An
uncynical compliment at last!