I
doubted if I had a voice when this was proposed, but that was held to be
a trivial objection, and I found sitting close beside the sweep of
hair from Marion's brow had many compensations. I discovered her mother
sitting in the horsehair armchair and regarding us sentimentally. I went
for a walk with Marion towards Putney Bridge, and then there was more
singing and a supper of cold bacon and pie, after which Mr. Ramboat and
I smoked. During that walk, I remember, she told me the import of her
sketchings and copyings in the museum. A cousin of a friend of hers whom
she spoke of as Smithie, had developed an original business in a sort of
tea-gown garment which she called a Persian Robe, a plain sort of wrap
with a gaily embroidered yoke, and Marion went there and worked in the
busy times. In the times that weren't busy she designed novelties in
yokes by an assiduous use of eyes and note-book in the museum, and went
home and traced out the captured forms on the foundation material. "I
don't get much," said Marion, "but it's interesting, and in the busy
times we work all day.
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