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Geoffry Daymond's companion meanwhile was paying his respects to Pauline and the Colonel, who were old acquaintances. "May, you have never met Mr. Kenwick, I think," said Pauline. "Oh, yes, I have," May declared; "but it was ages ago and he never would take any notice of me." "Do let me make up for it now," Kenwick begged, rapidly setting his palette, by way of elucidating his request.
Old fishermen in their blue blouses, aged women, stiff, and slow, managed somehow to get upon their knees. The Colonel stood, hat in hand, facing the bridge, while May glanced, with bright interest, from one picturesque figure to another, noting the fact, in passing, that Geoffry Daymond's hat was lifted, and Oliver Kenwick's was not. Pauline sat with her head bent over the sleeping child.
Kenwick refrained from asking himself why he should consider Daymond's claim paramount to his own; he was not given to searching analysis of his own motives.
"Indeed it is!" Pauline agreed, cordially, taking the picture from her uncle's hand and studying it attentively. "All the same," she said, as they were rowing towards home, half-an-hour later; "I should much rather have had Mr. Daymond's sketch. It is not a likeness, yet there's twice as much of May in it." "Do you think so?" May queried, doubtfully. "Seems to me he didn't give me any nose."
And she told much of her history to the sentimental Colonel, who was conceiving for her a sincere friendship and camaraderie. They opened up other veins of memory, talked of Lady Feenix, of the musical parties at the Parrys, of Emily Daymond's playing, of this, that and the other hostess, of such-and-such an actress or singer. The Colonel of course was often absent all day on military duties.
And Kenwick was nothing if not fastidious. Her attraction had been undeniably heightened by his imagined discovery of Geoffry Daymond's interest in her; but quite independently of that artificial stimulus, she did exercise a strong fascination over him. It was not in Oliver Kenwick's scheme of life to sacrifice his independence to any claim, even to that of his own unchastened fancies.
He employed himself with handing plates about, while Geof dispensed the strawberries. It was a pretty and peaceful scene. Kenwick had stepped into Mrs. Daymond's gondola, and was invited to take the seat beside her; Geof stood on the shore talking with the men.
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