distemper and the floor was blue. In the corner was a very large orange-coloured screen. The walls were hung with specimens of Irene’s art, there was a stout female with no clothes on at all, whom it was impossible not to recognize as being Lucy; there were studies of fat legs and ample bosoms, and on the easel was a picture, evidently in process of completion, which represented a man. From this Miss Mapp instantly averted her eyes.
“Eve,” said Irene, pointing to Lucy.
Miss Mapp naturally guessed that the gentleman who was almost in the same costume was Adam, and turned completely away from him.
“And what a lovely idea to have a blue floor, dear,” said. “How original you are. And that pretty scarlet ceiling. But don’t you find when you’re painting that all these bright colours disturb you?”
“Not a bit: they stimulate your sense of colour.”
Miss Mapp moved towards the screen.
“What a delicious big screen,” she said.
“Yes, but don’t go behind it, Mapp,” said Irene, “or you’ll see my model undressing.”
Miss Mapp retreated from it precipitately, as from a wasp’s nest, and examined some of the studies on the wall, for it was more than probable from the unfinished picture on the easel that Adam lurked behind the delicious screen. Terrible though it all was, she was conscious of an unbridled curiosity to know who Adam was. It was dreadful to think that there could be any man in Tilling so depraved as to stand to be looked at with so little on.…
Irene strolled round the walls with her.
“Studies of Lucy,” she said.
“I see, dear,” said Miss Mapp. “How clever! Legs and things! But when you have your bridge-party,
