hed
outline.

By the end of an hour the first sketch of his drawing was complete. It
was astonishingly good, vigorous and solid; better than all, it had that
feeling for form that makes just the difference between the amateur and
the genuine artist.

By this time Vandover's interest began to flag. Four times he had drawn
and redrawn the articulation of the model's left shoulder. As she stood,
turned sideways to him, one hand on her hip, the deltoid muscle was at
once contracted and foreshortened. It was a difficult bit of anatomy to
draw. Vandover was annoyed at his ill success--such close attention and
continued effort wearied him a little--the room was overheated and
close, and the gas stove, which was placed near the throne to warm the
model, leaked and filled the room with a nasty brassy smell. Vandover
remembered that the previous week he had been looking over some old
bound copies of _l'Art_ in the Mechanics Library and had found them of
absorbing interest. There was a pleasant corner and a huge comfortable
chair near where they were in the reading-room, and from the window one
could occasionally look out upon the street. It was a quiet spot, and he
would not be disturbed all the morning. The idea was so attractive that
he put away his portfolio and drawing things and went out.

For an hour he gave himself up to the enjoyment of _l'Art_, excusing his
indolence by telling himself that it was all in his profession and was
not time lost. A reproduction of a picture by Gerome gave him some
suggestions for the "Last Enemy," which he noted very carefully.

He was interrupted by a rustle of starched skirts and a voice that said:

"Why, hello, Van!"

He looked up quickly to see a young girl of about twenty dressed in a
black close-fitting bolero jacket of imitation astrakhan with big
leg-of-mutton sleeves, a striped silk skirt, and a very broad hat tilted
to one side. Her hair was very blond, though coarse and dry from being
bleached, and a little flat curl of it lay very low on her forehead. She
was marvellously pretty. Vandover was delighted.

"Why, _Ida_!" he exclaimed, holding her hand; "_it's_ awfully nice to
see you here; won't you sit down?" and he pushed his chair toward her.

But Ida Wade said no, she had just come in after a new book, and of
course it had to be out. But where had he kept himself so long? That was
the way he threw off on her; ah, yes, he was going with Miss Ravis now
and wouldn't look at