One thing, however, I do realize: you're making yourself
every day more necessary to my life. Honestly, when you're not here,
this studio is infernal. You seem to endow it with your presence, to
infuse it with your personality. It's so romantic, you and I all alone
on the tops of the houses, more alone than if we were on a beach in
winter. I wish I could tell you the glorious satisfaction I feel all the
time."

"Darling," she murmured drowsily.

"Sleepy girl, are you?"

"A bit."

Just then came a knock at the door, and Ronnie Walker looked in.

"Hullo, Ronnie," said Maurice, with a hint of ungraciousness in his
tone.

"I say, old chap, would you think me an intrusive scoundrel if I made
some drawings of Jenny?"

Maurice's annoyance at interruption was mollified by the pride of
ownership.

"Rather not. Any time. Why not now?"

So Ronnie sat there, making little _croquis_ of Jenny with soft outlines
elusive as herself. After a while, with his sketch-book under his arm,
he stole quietly from the room. The next day he came back with two
water-colors, of which the first showed a room shadowy with dawn and
Jenny fast asleep before a silver mirror, wrapped in a cloak of clouded
blue satin. The second represented a bedroom darkened by jalousies
faintly luminous with the morning light, when through one chink,
glittering with motes, a narrow sunbeam made vivid her crimson lips.

The painter showed his pictures to Maurice.

"Oh, Ronnie," said the latter. "You put me out of temper with my own
work."

"My dear chap, I'm awfully sorry," apologized Ronnie, and, without
waiting, hurried from the studio.

"Whatever's the matter?" asked Jenny, awakened by this brief interview.

"I wish people wouldn't come in and interrupt me when I'm at work,"
Maurice grumbled. "It's frightfully inconsiderate. You don't want to
look at damned paintings when you're working in another medium."

"Who were they of?"

"You, of course."

"Why didn't he show them to me?"

"Because I jumped down his throat, I suppose."

"Whatever for?"

"Can't you understand how annoying it must be to have to look at another
person's treatment of your subject?"

"I think it was very nasty of you not to let him show me the pictures."

"You seem more interested in Ronnie's work than in mine."

"Well, you never let me look at what you've done."

"It isn't finished yet."

"You can be horrid."

"Look here, Jenny, for goodness' sake don't start cr