e pleasure of contact.

For a while she moulded little cubes and pyramids, pinched out
bread-crumb chickens and pigs and cats.

"_What_ do you think of this little wax kitten, Gladys?" she whispered,
holding it up for the cat's inspection. Gladys regarded it without
interest and resumed her pleasant contemplation of space.

Valerie, elbows on knees, seated at the revolving stool with all the
naive absorption of a child constructing mud pies, began to make out of
the fascinating green wax an image of Gladys dozing.

Time fled away in the studio; intent, absorbed, she pinched little
morsels of wax from the lump and pushed them into place with a snowy,
pink-tipped thumb, or with the delicate nail of her forefinger removed
superfluous material.

Stepping noiselessly so not to disturb Neville she made frequent
journeys around to the other side of the cat, sometimes passing
sensitive fingers over silky feline contours, which, research inspired a
loud purring.

As she worked sometimes she talked under her breath to herself, to
Gladys, to Neville:

"I am making a perfectly good cat, Valerie," she whispered. "Gladys,
aren't you a little bit flattered? I suppose you think it's honour
enough to belong to that man up there on the scaffolding. I imagine it
is; he is a very wonderful man, Gladys, very high above us in intellect
as he is in body. He doesn't pay very much attention to you and me down
here on the floor; he's just satisfied to own us and be amiable to us
when he thinks about us.

"I don't mean that in any critical or reproachful sense, Gladys. Don't
you dare think I do--not for one moment! Do you hear me? Well then! If
you are stupid enough to misunderstand me I'll put a perfectly horrid
pair of ears on you!... I've made a very dainty pair of ears for you,
dear; I only said that to frighten you. You and I like that man up
there--tremendously, don't we? And we're very grateful to him for--for a
great many happy moments--and for his unfailing kindness and
consideration.... You don't mind posing for me; _you_ wear fur. But I
didn't wear anything, dear, when I first sat to him as a novice; and,
kitty, I was a fortunate girl in my choice of the man before whom I was
to make a debut. And I--"

The rattle of brushes and the creak of the scaffolding arrested her:
Neville was coming down for a view of his work.

"Hello," he said, pleasantly, noticing for the first time that she was
still in the studio.

"Have I dis