"Now, let's see who'll dare to take him down," she cried. After a long fifteen seconds, she pulled her head back into the seat, looking at his face from the close angle, his nose huge and out of perspective, his eyes like round blue pearls. She had seen a man’s head steal out for a moment and draw the curtains a little closer. "Why, first," rejoined Austin, "there's Sir James Thornhill, historical painter to his Majesty, and the greatest artist of the day. You are utterly baffling. The whole force of the constables, jailers and others was required to keep the crowd out of the Hall. She feared he might take her tears as a sign of weakness. ’ ‘Sir!’ came from Trodger, and the booted feet clattered off and out of the front door. She was to fall back amongst the ruck, a young woman of talent, content perhaps to earn a scanty living by painting Christmas cards, or teaching at a kindergarten.
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