''Won''t you tell me what it is you think? You might speak plainly. I am not a child, Mr Rivers!''①本①作①品①由①思①兔①網①提①供①線①上①閱①讀①
''You are not,'' he said softly, gazing into her eyes. Then he gave a start. ''After all,'' he went on, ''my opinion is mild enough. It concerns your—your sex, and matters of creation. There is something, Miss Lilly, I think your sex must have.''
She swallowed. ''What is that, Mr Rivers?''
''Why, the liberty,'' he answered gently, ''of mine.''
She sat still, then gave a wriggle. Her chair creaked, the sound seemed to startle her, and she drew her hand away. She looked up, to the glass, and found my eyes on her, and blushed; then Gentleman looked up too, and watched her—that made her colour still harder and lower her gaze. He looked from her to me, then back to her again. He lifted his hands to his whiskers and gave them a stroke.
Then she put her brush to the picture of the fruit, and—''Oh!'' she cried. The paint ran like a tear-drop. Gentleman said she must not mind it, that he had worked her quite enough. He went to the table, took up the pear and rubbed the bloom from it. Maud kept a little pen-knife with her brushes and leads, and he got this out and cut the pear into three wet slices. He gave one to her, kept one for him