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Updated: July 25, 2025
"I did not offer to see for you. I did not offer you a dream." "Would you show me that which I already see, waking and sleeping? Would you bring to my hearing the sound of a voice which I can hear even now? I need no help for that." "I can do more than that for you." "And why for me?" he asked with some curiosity. "Because because you are Keyork Arabian's friend."
Besides, the fact of Arabian's arrival at the studio had naturally led Garstin to expect compliance with his wish already expressed at the Cafe Royal. He was now obviously in a surly temper, and Miss Van Tuyn knew from experience that when resisted he was quite capable of an explosion. How, she wondered, would Arabian face an outburst from Garstin? She could not tell.
As I'm giving it to you, I thought you'd like to know that it's appreciated." There was an unmistakably malicious expression on Garstin's face as he spoke, and his small eyes travelled quickly from Arabian to Sir Seymour. "In fact," added Garstin, lifting the decanter to pour the whisky into Arabian's glass, "Sir Seymour is so pleased with my work that I shouldn't wonder if he lets me paint him."
Either he would succeed, or he would abandon the attempt to succeed, or a third possibility presented itself to Miss Van Tuyn's mind his model would get tired of the conflict and refuse to "sit" any more. And then the depths? Till now Arabian's patience had been remarkable. Evidently Garstin's obstinacy was matched by an obstinacy in him.
If you call on her you will be sent off. If you write to her your letters will be burnt without being read. If you try to persecute her in any way means will be found to protect her and to punish you. I shall see to that." Arabian's mouth was still tightly shut and he was standing quite still and seemed to be thinking, or trying to think, deeply. For his eyes now had a curiously inward look.
And then Miss Van Tuyn had seen Arabian's eyes turn to her as he had said, but rather doubtfully: "I don't know whether I am." Garstin's eyes had said to her with sharp imperativeness: "Keep him! You're not to let him go!" And she had kept her promise; she had gone away from the studio with Arabian leaving Garstin smiling at the door. And at that moment she had almost hated Garstin.
Perhaps underneath all her audacity, her self-possession, her "damned cheek," her abnormal vanity, there was the thing that could shrink, and quiver, and love the brute. Was that her secret? And his? Arabian's? Garstin threw himself down presently and looked at the paper again.
"But why do you think I could get to know him?" "Because he's but you know why better than I do." "I don't." "Arabian's in love with you, my girl. By Jove! There he is!" The bell had sounded below. With a swift movement Garstin got hold of a palette knife, sprang at the sketch of Arabian, and ripped up the canvas from top to bottom. Miss Van Tuyn uttered a cry. "Dick!" "That's all right!"
"Yes." He heard her sigh. But she said nothing more. He told what had happened in the flat, but not fully. He said nothing of Arabian's mention of her name, but he did tell her that he himself had spoken of her, had said that he was a friend of hers. And finally he told her how, carried away by indignation, he had spoken of his and Miss Van Tuyn's knowledge that Arabian had stolen her jewels.
Miss Van Tuyn's face became very hard. "Well, then, Adela " She paused. Suddenly there had come into her mind the thought of a possible way of forcing the confidence which Lady Sellingworth refused to give her. Should she take it? She hesitated. Arabian's will was upon her even here in this quiet drawing-room. His large eyes seemed fixed upon her.
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