London, inside a small building on the streets of the Mayfair District.
Brilliant sunshine filtered through the glass, illuminating Mrs. Norton's delicate makeup. It seemed to echo the lady's succinct and powerful motto — indeed, we are quite beautiful.
Perhaps due to the long-standing marital strife of the past few years, Mrs. Norton, although quietly sitting there without any expression and acting as a model, always had a kind of indescribable weariness between her brows and eyes.
Arthur and Disraeli, each with a stool, sat opposite her. These two typically talkative young men were now unusually silent, feeling an inexplicable awkwardness between them.
It was at this moment they realized that accompanying a married lady to a portrait painting session ought to be the affair of her husband or perhaps a lover. What then were they doing here?