canvas in front of her was still maddeningly and dismayingly blank.
She chewed on the end of her brush, her mouth, slightly pouting, betraying her dislike of the situation. She felt she should have been able to paint as she had never done before, in such surroundings, but far from that being so, she found herself devoid of any kind of inspiration at all.
In the two weeks since she came to San Gregorio she had done nothing worth mentioning at all. Not that she had ever considered herself any more than a passably good amateur, but at least at home she had been able to produce something that she was not ashamed to show her friends. Two weeks under Miguel Cordova's expert tuition and she had nothing at all to show for it. She had no hesitation, either, of placing the blame for her failure firmly at the feet of her tutor.
She avoided Miguel Cordova as often as she could, although she was forced to bear his harsh and unrelenting criticism during teaching sessions. It was ridiculous to feel as sensitive as she did, but since that episode when he had found her alone by the roadside and played such havoc with her emotions, she felt unable to face him without wanting to run away and hide.
He had made it plain enough to her that he considered it no more than a lesson to teach her never to go wandering out alone at night. Nevertheless, she was aware that she had responded to him, if only for a few minutes, with far more lack of inhibition than she should have done.
As for helping her to improve her painting, from his manner he seemed far more intent on discouraging her, until she had reached the point, only a couple of days ago, when she had been ready to pack up and go home. Only Michael's persuasion had changed her mind, and she thanked heaven that he could not possibly have known what other, more disturbing, factors lay behind her wanting to leave.
She was sure that Dona Alicia would have regretted her early departure, for the older woman had shown, quite unmistakably, that she liked her, but she would probably have seen the reason for it far more easily than Michael would. Dona Alicia, Sally thought, would know exactly what sort of an effect her son would have on other women.
No one saw anything of Ines Valdaquez, except at mealtimes, and Sally thanked heaven for it, but she was also feminine enough to speculate on what the Spanish girl's reaction would have been to that incident on the coast road. Ines Valdaquez showed quite plainly, in her manner towards him, that she looked upon Miguel Cordova as something more than just her late husband's cousin; even if she did receive little in the way of encouragement—in public at least.
It was annoying, Sally thought, how often she found herself thinking about Miguel Cordova, and she frowned now to find herself so preoccupied yet again. No one could deny that he was a brilliant artist, of course, but his manner towards her fellow students and herself was one of such arrogant impatience and barely concealed contempt that she found it very hard to understand why they did not object, as she did herself. Their acceptance of it all only added to Sally's sense of injustice.
Michael had surprised her by proving quite amazingly knowledgeable about their host, although Sally had hesitated to enquire too closely into the source of his information. He had informed her, only yesterday, that Don Miguel had, during the past few years, numbered several famous beauties among his conquests. Of course Michael had hastened to add, as if it made everything all right, he was always very discreet, and never so obvious as to create a scandal.
The latter had made Sally smile wryly to herself when she heard it. Perhaps some of those famous beauties too were merely being taught a lesson on the danger of tempting the Spanish male. It was iTi- evitable, of course, that his dark, almost stern, looks would prove irresistible to a good many women. Even his arrogance would probably be in his favour with
She chewed on the end of her brush, her mouth, slightly pouting, betraying her dislike of the situation. She felt she should have been able to paint as she had never done before, in such surroundings, but far from that being so, she found herself devoid of any kind of inspiration at all.
In the two weeks since she came to San Gregorio she had done nothing worth mentioning at all. Not that she had ever considered herself any more than a passably good amateur, but at least at home she had been able to produce something that she was not ashamed to show her friends. Two weeks under Miguel Cordova's expert tuition and she had nothing at all to show for it. She had no hesitation, either, of placing the blame for her failure firmly at the feet of her tutor.
She avoided Miguel Cordova as often as she could, although she was forced to bear his harsh and unrelenting criticism during teaching sessions. It was ridiculous to feel as sensitive as she did, but since that episode when he had found her alone by the roadside and played such havoc with her emotions, she felt unable to face him without wanting to run away and hide.
He had made it plain enough to her that he considered it no more than a lesson to teach her never to go wandering out alone at night. Nevertheless, she was aware that she had responded to him, if only for a few minutes, with far more lack of inhibition than she should have done.
As for helping her to improve her painting, from his manner he seemed far more intent on discouraging her, until she had reached the point, only a couple of days ago, when she had been ready to pack up and go home. Only Michael's persuasion had changed her mind, and she thanked heaven that he could not possibly have known what other, more disturbing, factors lay behind her wanting to leave.
She was sure that Dona Alicia would have regretted her early departure, for the older woman had shown, quite unmistakably, that she liked her, but she would probably have seen the reason for it far more easily than Michael would. Dona Alicia, Sally thought, would know exactly what sort of an effect her son would have on other women.
No one saw anything of Ines Valdaquez, except at mealtimes, and Sally thanked heaven for it, but she was also feminine enough to speculate on what the Spanish girl's reaction would have been to that incident on the coast road. Ines Valdaquez showed quite plainly, in her manner towards him, that she looked upon Miguel Cordova as something more than just her late husband's cousin; even if she did receive little in the way of encouragement—in public at least.
It was annoying, Sally thought, how often she found herself thinking about Miguel Cordova, and she frowned now to find herself so preoccupied yet again. No one could deny that he was a brilliant artist, of course, but his manner towards her fellow students and herself was one of such arrogant impatience and barely concealed contempt that she found it very hard to understand why they did not object, as she did herself. Their acceptance of it all only added to Sally's sense of injustice.
Michael had surprised her by proving quite amazingly knowledgeable about their host, although Sally had hesitated to enquire too closely into the source of his information. He had informed her, only yesterday, that Don Miguel had, during the past few years, numbered several famous beauties among his conquests. Of course Michael had hastened to add, as if it made everything all right, he was always very discreet, and never so obvious as to create a scandal.
The latter had made Sally smile wryly to herself when she heard it. Perhaps some of those famous beauties too were merely being taught a lesson on the danger of tempting the Spanish male. It was iTi- evitable, of course, that his dark, almost stern, looks would prove irresistible to a good many women. Even his arrogance would probably be in his favour with
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