Barron had confided in Murdoch, but begged he would let it be known that he
courted no society for the present. As the work grew he spent more and more
time upon it. He explained to his friend quite seriously that he was
painting the gorse, but that Joan Tregenza had consented to fill a part of
the picture--a statement which amused the younger artist not a little.
"But the gorse is extraordinary, I'll admit. You must have worked without
ceasing. She will be exquisite. Where shall you get the blue for her eyes?"
"Out of the sky and the sea."
"Does the girl inspire you herself, John? I swear something has. This is
going to be great."
"It's going to be true, that's all. No, Joan is a dear child, but her
body's no more than a perfect casket to a commonplace little soul. She
talks a great deal and I like nothing better than to listen; for although
what she says is naught, yet her manner of saying it does not lack charm.
Her voice is wonderfully sweet--it comes from her throat like a
wood-pigeon's, and education has not ruined her diction."
"She's as shy as any wood-pigeon, too--we all know that; and you've done a
clever thing to tame her."
"God forbid that I should tame her. We met and grew friendly as wild things
both. She is a child of Nature, her mind is as pure as the sea. Moreover,
Joan walks saint-guided. Folklore and local twaddle does not appeal
overmuch to me, as you know, yet the stories drop prettily from her lips
and I find pleasure in listening.
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