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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Mamma was wondering if you would visit us to-night, Monsieur Falcroft, when I saw you staring at us as if we were ghosts." A burst of malicious laughter followed. "Berenice, Berenice," remonstrated her mother, "when will you cease such tasteless remarks!" She blushed in her pretty matronly fashion and put her hand on her daughter's mouth. "Don't mind her, Madame Mineur!
Only, Monticelli would have made the peacocks the central motive with the women and trees as an arabesque." He was a portraitist who solemnly believed in the principle of decoration character must take its chances when he painted. Falcroft was successful with women's heads, which he was fond of depicting in misty shadows framed by luxurious accessories.
"It is better," she answered in scarcely audible accents. "Why, you poor child! I hope you are not going to be ill! Have you been racing in the sun without your hat?" "No. I haven't been out of doors since yesterday." "What's the matter, little Berenice? Has some one been cross with her?" She pushed him from her violently. "Hubert Falcroft, when you treat me as a woman and not as a child "
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