DOI article:
Sharp, Evelyn: The other Anna
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.25499#0176
The Other Anna
172
to choose her words a sudden suspicion darted into her mind.
This was a studio, and the owner of it was an artist, and he had
found her hanging about another man’s studio. How could he be
supposed to know that she was only having her portrait painted,
and was not a professional model at all ? The idea, when she
had once grasped it, amused her immensely ; and she resolved
impulsively to play the part he expected from her. The
adventure was promising well, she thought.
“ What fun ! ” she said aloud, and her host glanced up at her
and frowned. Of course, she wanted him to frivol with her, and
he did not mean to be frivoled with. So he said nothing to
encourage her, and she sat down and scanned the room critically.
It was very bare, and rather dusty.
u I suppose it’s because you’re a man,” she observed, suddenly.
She was only finishing her thoughts out loud, but to him it
sounded like another attempt to draw him into conversation, and
he felt irritated by her persistence. He never wanted to talk
much at any time, and his attitude towards the confidences of his
models was one of absolute indifference. He did not care to
know why they had become models, nor how their people had lost
their money, nor what sort of homes they had ; they were there
to be drawn, that was all. But he realised vaguely that Anna
was there by his invitation, and he made an effort to be civil.
“ It accounts for most of my actions, yes,” he said, and set
down the board and began filling his pipe.
“I mean,” she explained, “that if you were a woman you
might make this place look awfully nice. You could have
flowers, for instance, and-”
“Oh yes,” he interrupted ; “and photographs, and muslin, and
screens.”
“Well, you might,’ she said, calmly. “But I shouldn’t.
Flowers
172
to choose her words a sudden suspicion darted into her mind.
This was a studio, and the owner of it was an artist, and he had
found her hanging about another man’s studio. How could he be
supposed to know that she was only having her portrait painted,
and was not a professional model at all ? The idea, when she
had once grasped it, amused her immensely ; and she resolved
impulsively to play the part he expected from her. The
adventure was promising well, she thought.
“ What fun ! ” she said aloud, and her host glanced up at her
and frowned. Of course, she wanted him to frivol with her, and
he did not mean to be frivoled with. So he said nothing to
encourage her, and she sat down and scanned the room critically.
It was very bare, and rather dusty.
u I suppose it’s because you’re a man,” she observed, suddenly.
She was only finishing her thoughts out loud, but to him it
sounded like another attempt to draw him into conversation, and
he felt irritated by her persistence. He never wanted to talk
much at any time, and his attitude towards the confidences of his
models was one of absolute indifference. He did not care to
know why they had become models, nor how their people had lost
their money, nor what sort of homes they had ; they were there
to be drawn, that was all. But he realised vaguely that Anna
was there by his invitation, and he made an effort to be civil.
“ It accounts for most of my actions, yes,” he said, and set
down the board and began filling his pipe.
“I mean,” she explained, “that if you were a woman you
might make this place look awfully nice. You could have
flowers, for instance, and-”
“Oh yes,” he interrupted ; “and photographs, and muslin, and
screens.”
“Well, you might,’ she said, calmly. “But I shouldn’t.
Flowers