‘My work has been abominable since three months or more. All this surrealism at Malaquin’s. I cannot feel like that and yet I cannot prevent myself from attempting it when I am there. That is why I return to you. I am in a muddle.’

‘Try a little ordinary study for a bit. Don’t worry about style. It’ll come. Take a new stretcher and make a simple statement.’ She moved to Valmai Seacliff and looked at the flowing lines so easily laid down. Seacliff moved back, contriving to touch Ormerin’s shoulder. He stopped working at once and whispered in her ear.

‘I can understand French, Ormerin,’ said Troy casually, still contemplating Seacliff’s canvas. ‘This is going quite well, Seacliff. I suppose the elongation of the legs is deliberate?’

‘Yes, I see her like that. Long and slinky. They say people always paint like themselves, don’t they?’

‘Do they?’ said Troy. ‘I shouldn’t let it become a habit.’

She moved on to Katti, who creaked back from her canvas. One of her shoes did squeak. Troy discussed the placing of the figure and then went on to Watt Hatchett. Hatchett had already begun to use solid paint, and was piling pure colour on his canvas.

‘You don’t usually start off like this, do you?’

‘Naow, that’s right, I don’t, but I thought I’d give it a pop.’

‘Was that, by any chance, because you could see Miss Bostock working in that manner?’ asked Troy, not too unkindly. Hatchett grinned and shuffled his feet. ‘You stick to your own ways for a bit,’ advised Troy. ‘You’re a beginner still, you know. Don’t try to acquire a manner till you’ve got a little more method. Is that foot too big or too small?’

‘Too small.’

‘Should that space there be wider or longer?’

‘Longer.’

‘Make it so.’

‘Good oh, Miss Troy. Think that bit of colour there’s all right?’ asked Hatchett, regarding it complacently.

‘It’s perfectly good colour, but don’t choke the pores of your canvas up with paint till you’ve got the big things settled. Correct your drawing and scrape it down.’

‘Yeah, but she wriggles all the time. It’s a fair nark. Look where the shoulder has shifted. See?’

‘Has the pose altered?’ inquired Troy at large.

‘Naow!’ said Sonia with vindictive mimicry.

‘It’s shifted a whole lot,’ asserted Hatchett aggressively. ‘I bet you anything you like—’

‘Wait a moment,’ said Troy.

‘It’s moved a little,’ said Katti Bostock.

Troy sighed.

‘Rest!’ she said. ‘No! Wait a minute.’

She took a stick of chalk from her overall pocket and ran it round the model wherever she touched the throne. The position of both legs, one flank, one hip, and one shoulder were thus traced on the boards. The blue drape was beneath the rest of the figure.

‘Now you can get up.’