"It is a true one," he said rather lamely. "After seeing the picture, I should have said it, I believe, in any case." "But it's not the real reason," repeated Evelyn. "Of course, you need not tell me the real reason, but you can't prevent my guessing. And you can't prevent my guessing right." "Ah, is this necessary?" asked Philip. Evelyn flashed out at this. "And is it fair on me?" he cried. "I disagree with you; I want another sitting, and she really has no right to treat me like this. I'm not a tradesman. She can't leave me because she chooses, like that, without giving a reason." Philip did not reply. "Or perhaps she has given a reason," said Evelyn, with peculiarly annoying penetration. Indeed, these grown-up children, boys and girls still, except in years, are wonderfully embarrassing, so Philip reflected--people who will ask childish questions, who are yet sufficiently men and women to be able to detect a faltering voice, an equivocation. Tact does not seem to exist for them; if they want to know a thing they ask it straight out before everybody. And, indeed, it is sometimes less embarrassing if there are plenty of people there; one out of a number may begin talking, and with the buzz of conversation drown the absence of a reply. But alone--tactlessness in a _tête-à-tête_ is to fire at a large target; it cannot help hitting. This certainly had hit, and Philip knew it was useless to pretend otherwise. And, as the just reply to tactlessness is truth, also tactless, he let Evelyn have it. "Yes, she gave a reason," he said, "since you will have it so. She said she was bored with the sittings. And you may tell her I told you," he added. Evelyn had put his head a little on one side, an action common with him when he was trying to catch an effect. He showed no symptom whatever of annoyance, his face expressed only slightly amused incredulity. "Bored with the sittings, or bored with me?" he asked. Philip's exasperation increased. People in ordinary life did not ask such questions. But since, such a question was asked, it deserved its answer. "Bored with you," he said. "I am sorry, but there it is; bored with you." "Thanks," said Evelyn. "And now, if you won't be bored with me, do get back and stand for ten minutes more. I won't ask for longer than that. I just want--ah, that's right, stop like that."