"Possibly. Kindly turn your head a little further away; that'll do. What's wrong about your profile, please?"
"There's nothing wrong about it," she said, indignantly. "But I always show people my full face if I can; it's got more character."
"Women are so commercial," remarked Askett. "They make the most of every little advantage they think they possess."
"I must say," retorted Anna, "that for one who professes so much scorn for the whole sex, your perpetual desire to drag it into the conversation is most surprising."
"How is the other Anna?" asked Askett, rather suddenly.
"Oh, she's all right. She isn't so sure she would like you as I expected her to be."
"Indeed? Can't she contemplate my appalling silence with out shuddering? Or is it because my face hasn't got any character in it?"
"Oh, no, your face is all right. And she wouldn't mind your being silent in the least, because she does all the talking herself. She'd only expect you to listen."
" What a clatter there must be when you get together," observed Askett.
"It generally has the effect of silencing us both," said Anna, gravely. "Am I sitting better to-day?"
"A little, yes. But I think I'll try the full face again; perhaps, you won't bob your head round quite so often if you are obliged to look at me."
"One would think I wanted to look at you," pouted Anna.
"That is certainly what you have led me to believe," said Askett, looking for another sheet of paper. "Now, don't flare up for nothing at all; I didn't mean to be rude, and I wasn't rude;
