Michael turned from the Rafaelite, who was shrugging his thick shoulders. He saw what was clearly a portrait of June. It was entirely recognizable, very smooth, all green and silver, with a suggestion of halo round the head.
‘Pure primary line and colour – d’you think they’d hang that in the Academy?’
‘Seems to me exactly what they would hang,’ thought Michael, careful to keep the conclusion out of his face.
‘I like the suggestion of a halo,’ he murmured.
The Rafaelite uttered a short, sharp laugh.
‘I’m going for a walk,’ he said; ‘I’ll be in to supper. Goodbye!’
‘Good-bye! said Michael, with a certain relief.
‘Of course,’ said June when they were alone, ‘he’s the only person who could paint Fleur. He’d get her modern look so perfectly. Would she sit to him? With everybody against him, you know, he has such a struggle.’
‘I’ll ask her. But do tell me – why is everybody against him?’
‘Because he’s been through all these empty modern crazes, and come back to pure form and colour. They think he’s a traitor, and call him academic. It’s always the way when a man has the grit to fly against fashion and follow his own genius. I can see exactly what he’d do with Fleur. It would be a great chance for him, because he’s very proud, and this would be a proper commission from Soames. Splendid for her, too, of course. She ought to jump at it – in ten years’ time he’ll be the man.’
Michael, who doubted if Fleur would ‘jump at it’, or Soames give the commission, replied cautiously: ‘I’ll sound her…. By the way, your sister Holly and your young brother and his wife were lunching with us today.’
‘Oh!’ said June, ‘I haven’t seen Jon yet.’ And looking at Michael with her straight blue eyes, she added:
‘Why did you come to see me?’
Under that challenging stare Michael’s diplomacy wilted.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘frankly, I want you to tell me why Fleur and your young brother came to an end with each other.’
‘Sit down,’ said June, and resting her pointed chin on her hand, she looked at him with eyes moving a little from side to side, as might a cat’s.
‘I’m glad you asked me straight out; I hate people who beat about the bush. Don’t you know about his mother? She was Soames’s first wife, of course.’
‘Oh!’ said Michael.
‘Irene,’ and, as she spoke the name, Michael was aware of something deep and primitive stirring in that little figure. ‘Very beautiful – they didn’t get on; she left him – and years later she married my father, and Soames divorced her. I mean Soames divorced her and she married my father. They had Jon. And then, when Jon and Fleur fell in love, Irene and my father were terribly upset, and so was Soames – at least, he ought to have been.’
‘And then?’ asked Michael, for she was silent.
‘The children were told; and my father died in the middle of it all; and Jon sacrificed himself and took his mother away, and Fleur married you.’
So that was it! In spite of the short, sharp method of the telling, he could feel tragic human feeling heavy in the tale. Poor little devils!
‘I always thought it was too bad,’ said June suddenly. ‘Irene ought to have put up with it. Only – only –’ and she stared at Michael, ‘they wouldn’t have been happy. Fleur’s too selfish. I expect she saw that.’
Michael raised an indignant voice.
‘Yes,’ said June; ‘you’re a good sort, I know – too good for her.’
‘I’m not,’ said Michael sharply.
‘Oh yes, you are. She isn’t bad, but she’s a selfish little creature.’
‘I wish you’d remember –’
‘Sit down! Don’t mind what I say. I only speak the truth, you know. Of course, it was all horrible; Soames and my father were first cousins. And those children were awfully in love.’
Again Michael was conscious of the deep and private feeling within the little figure; conscious, too, of something deep and private stirring within himself.
‘Painful!’ he said.
‘I don’t know,’ June went on abruptly, ‘I don’t know; perhaps it was all for the best. You’re happy, aren’t you?’
With that pistol to his head, he stood and delivered.
‘I am. But is she?’
The little green-and-silver figure straightened up. She caught his hand and gave it a squeeze. There was something almost terribly warm-hearted about the action, and Michael was touched. He had only seen her twice before!