"Well, allowing for poor workmanship, all you see here's harmonious. The
blues and purples and yellows tone, and yet, if I've got the hot glare of
the sun right, you feel that the figure's exotic and doesn't belong to
the scene. The latter really needs an olive-skinned daughter of the
passionate South; but the girl I've painted ought to walk in the
moonlight through cool forest glades."
Dick studied the picture silently, for he remembered with disturbing
emotion that he had felt what Jake suggested when he first met Clare
Kenwardine. She was frank, but somehow remote and aloof; marked by a
strange refinement he could find no name for. He was glad that Jake did
not seem to expect him to speak, but after a few moments the latter
wrapped up the portrait and took it away. When he came back he lighted a
cigarette.
"Now," he said, "do you think it's sensible to distrust a girl like that?
Admitting that her father makes a few dollars by gambling, can you
believe that living with him throws any taint on her?"
Dick hesitated. Clare had stolen his papers. This seemed impossible, but
it was true. Yet when he looked up he answered as his heart urged him: "No. It sounds absurd."
"It is absurd," Jake said firmly.
Neither spoke for the next minute, and then Dick frowned at a disturbing
thought. Could the lad understand Clare so well unless he loved her?
"That picture must have taken some time to paint. Did Miss Kenwardine
often pose for you?"
"No," said Jake, rather dryly; "in fact, she didn't really pose at all. I
had trouble to get permission to make one or two quick sketches, and
worked up the rest from memory."
"Yet she let you sketch her. It was something of a privilege."
Jake smiled in a curious way. "I think I see what you mean. Miss
Kenwardine likes me, but although I've some artistic taste, I'm frankly
flesh and blood; and that's not quite her style. She finds me a little
more in harmony with her than the rest, but this is all. Still, it's
something to me. Now you understand matters, perhaps you won't take so
much trouble to keep me out of Santa Brigida."
"I'll do my best to keep you away from Kenwardine," Dick declared.
"Very well," Jake answered with a grin. "You're quite a good sort, though
you're not always very smart, and I can't blame you for doing what you
think is your duty."
Then he set to work on his calculations and there was silence on the
veranda.
Dick kept him occupied for the next week, and then prudently decided not
to press the lad too hard by finding him work that obviously need not be
done. If he was to preserve his power, it must be used with caution. The
first evening Jake was free he started for Santa Brigida, though as there
was no longer a locomotive available, he got two laborers to take him
down the line on a hand-car. After that he had some distance to walk and
arrived at Kenwardine's powdered with dust. It was a hot night and he
found Kenwardine and three or four others in the patio.