When George was gone she would _work_, yes, she would work hard--to surprise him when he came back.
Sir William meanwhile was increasingly taken with his guest.

She was shy, very diffident, very young; but in the few things she said, he discerned--or fancied--the stirrings of a real taste--real intelligence.
And she was prettier and more fetching than ever--with her small dark head, and her lovely mouth.

He would like to draw the free sensuous line of it, the beautiful moulding of the chin.

What a prize for the young man! Was he aware of his own good fortune?
Was he adequate?
'I say, how jolly!' said Sarratt, coming up to look.

'My wife, Sir William--I think she told you--has got a turn for this kind of thing.
These will give her ideas.' And while he looked at the drawings, he slipped a hand into his wife's arm, smiling down upon her, and commenting on the sketches.