eemed to penetrate the heart
region of Garret Barres. It was jealousy and it hurt.

"No objection at all," he said, wondering how the devil Westmore had
become so familiar with her name in such a very brief encounter.

Thessalie rose and came over:

"Dulcie, will you come with us?" she asked gaily.

"That's a first rate idea," said Barres, cheering up. "Dulcie, tell
her what things you have and she'll tell you what you need for
Foreland Farms."

"Indeed I will," cried Thessalie. "We'll make her perfectly adorable
in a most economical manner. Shall we, dear?"

And she held out her hand to Dulcie, and, smiling, turned her head and
looked across the room at Westmore.

Which troubled Barres and left him rather silent there in the studio
after they had gone away. For he had rather fancied himself as the
romance in Thessalie's life, and, at times, was inclined to
sentimentalise a little about her.

And now he permitted himself to wonder how much there really might be
to that agreeable sentiment he entertained for, perhaps, the prettiest
girl he had ever met in his life, and, possibly, the most delightful.

XVIII

THE BABBLER

The double apartment in Dragon Court, swept by such vagrant July
breezes as wandered into the heated city, had become lively with
preparations for departure.

Barres fussed about, collecting sketching paraphernalia, choosing
brushes, colours, canvases, field kits, and costumes from his
accumulated store, and boxing them for transportation to Foreland
Farms, with the languid assistance of Aristocrates.

Westmore had only to ship a modelling stand, a handful of sculptors'
tools, and a ton or two of Plasteline, an evil-smelling composite
clay, very useful to work with.

But the storm centre of preparation revolved around Dulcie. And
Thessalie, enchanted with her new role as adviser, bargainer, and
purchaser, and always attaching either Westmore or Barres to her
skirts when she and Dulcie sallied forth, was selecting and
accumulating a charming and useful little impedimenta. For the young
girl had never before owned a single pretty thing, except those first
unpremeditated gifts of Barres', and her happiness in these
expeditions was alloyed with trepidation at Thessalie's extravagance,
and deep misgivings concerning her ultimate ability to repay out of
the salary allowed her as a private model.

Intoxicated by ownership, she watched Thessalie and Selinda laying
away in her brand-n