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230 Perry found some difficulty in dressing without a maid, and also she wanted to get rid of the marks of tears. In this she was hardly successful. Unfortunately she had no veil. When she came out finally, Teresa's first glance at her face resulted in a second quick scrutiny. The two women met conventionally. It was their first meeting for nearly a year, and whatever feeling of intimacy there had been between them had long since disappeared.

"Would you mind calling a cab for me?" Mrs. Perry said to Basil, after the first greeting to Teresa.

In her tone was a certain hint of imperiousness. Basil went out, with a naïve sense of escaping from an uncomfortable situation.

"Well, the picture has been judged a failure, you see," Mrs. Perry said rapidly, pulling on her gloves. "I'm so disappointed—I'd really set my heart on it. But I suppose there's no appeal. Artists have their ways of feeling about their work that ordinary mortals can't be expected to comprehend—isn't that true?"

"I suppose it is," Teresa said mechanically. "It's a pity. Have you wasted much time on it?"

"Four sittings—a good deal for a busy person like myself. But—I won't grumble any more."

"Basil will be sorrier than you, I'm sure. He hates to make failures."