Once again, Nesah struggled to understand everything he was saying. She had been taught English and French by the governess at home, but the way she had been taught the pronunciation was so different both from the way this man spoke and from the way the local people spoke. She was becoming slightly more familiar with the local accent, but the way this man seemed to replace vowels confused her, and made her miss later parts of sentences while she was trying to understand earlier parts.

However, it was clear what he was talking about when he showed her the picture. Nesah was a little surprised to find herself pictured once again, but rather than being offended, she liked what she saw. It was how she liked to be portraited. Not the sitting of a chair stiffly in her best clothes, trying to look as delicate and respectable as she could. But authentic, and she looked strong rather than delicate.

A genuine smile crept over her face in spite of herself. She looked back up at the painter. "I like it. I think the..." she didn't know the English word. "the black... the pencil... it is better for this than paint."