The girl turned her face over her shoulder so exactly in the way her
mother wished that Mrs. Pasmer could scarcely repress a cry of joy. "A
sketch of Mr. Mavering's."

"Oh, how very interesting!" said Mrs. Pasmer. "Do you sketch, Mr.
Mavering? But of course." She pressed forward, and studied the sketch
inattentively. "How very, very good!" she buzzed deep in her throat,
while, with a glance at her daughter, she thought, "How impassive Alice
is! But she behaves with great dignity. Yes. Perhaps that's best. And are
you going to be an artist?" she asked of Mavering.

"Not if it can be prevented," he answered, laughing again.

"But his laugh is very pleasant," reflected Mrs. Pasmer. "Does Alice
dislike it so much?" She repeated aloud, "If it can be prevented?"

"They think I might spoil a great lawyer in the attempt."

"Oh, I see. And are you going to be a lawyer? But to be a great painter!
And America has so few of them." She knew quite well that she was talking
nonsense, but she was aware, through her own indifference to the topic
that he was not minding what she said, but was trying to bring himself
into talk with Alice again. The girl persistently listened to Professor
Saintsbury.

"Is she punishing him for something?" her mother asked herself. "What can
it be for. Does she think he's a little too pushing? Perhaps, he is a
little pushing." She reflected, with an inward sigh, that she would know
whether he was if she only knew more about him.