waylay the
doctor after his visit, left the studio door ajar, and went out when he
heard a sound of leave-taking across the landing. But it appeared that
the doctor had just come, and that it was Mungold who was making his
adieux.

The latter at once assumed that Stanwell had been on the alert for him,
and met the supposed advance by affably inviting himself into the
studio.

"May I come and take a look around, my dear fellow? I have been meaning
to drop in for an age--" Mungold always spoke with a girlish emphasis
and effusiveness--"but I have been so busy getting up Mrs. Van Orley's
tableaux--English eighteenth century portraits, you know--that really,
what with that and my sittings, I've hardly had time to think. And then
you know you owe me about a dozen visits! But you're a savage--you
don't pay visits. You stay here and _piocher_--which is wiser, as the
results prove. Ah, you're very strong--immensely strong!" He paused in
the middle of the studio, glancing about a little apprehensively, as
though he thought the stored energy of the pictures might result in an
explosion. "Very original--very striking--ah, Miss Arran! A powerful
head; but--excuse the suggestion--isn't there just the least little
lack of sweetness? You don't think she has the sweet type? Perhaps
not--but could she be so lovely if she were not intensely feminine?
Just at present, though, she is not looking her best--she is horribly
tired. I am afraid there is very little money left--and poor dear
Caspar is so impossible: he won't hear of a loan. Otherwise I should be
most happy--. But I came just now to propose a piece of work--in fact
to give him an order. Mrs. Archer Millington has built a new ball-room,
as I daresay you may have seen in the papers, and she has been kind
enough to ask me for some hints--oh, merely as a friend: I don't
presume to do more than advise. But her decorator wants to do something
with Cupids--something light and playful, you understand. And so I
ventured to say that I knew a very clever sculptor--well, I _do_
believe Caspar has talent--latent talent, you know--and at any rate a
job of that sort would be a big lift for him. At least I thought he
would regard it so; but you should have heard him when I showed him the
decorator's sketch. He asked me what the Cupids were to be done
in--lard? And if I thought he had had his training at a confectioner's?
And I don't know what more besides--but he worked himself up to such a