hen you shall 'ease off'
and stretch your legs a little. I'm sure by this time you must be
wishing all artists at the bottom of the sea!"

"N-no; I haven't got quite as far as that yet," Richardson answered
with lazy good-humour, flicking the ash off his cigar.

"You will, though, before I've done with you! I know I have been
exacting to-day, for the eyes are the crux of a portrait. Unless the
individual soul looks out of them, it's a dead thing. D'you know, I
once told Eldred that yours were like bits of sea water with sunbeams
caught in them; and the effect isn't easy to produce on canvas. But
I'm succeeding--I'm succeeding _a merveille_. That's why I must get
the effect while my hand is in; and you've not once hampered me by
looking bored or impatient. How is one to reward you for such angelic
behaviour?"

"There are ways and ways. Am I allowed to choose?"

"Perhaps,--within limits! But we'll discuss that when I can give my
mind to the subject. Now, your head a little more to the right,
please. That's better. You get out of position when you talk."

"Sorry. I may lean back though, mayn't I?"

"Why, of course! I only wonder you don't get up and throw the chair at
my head!"

He laughed and leaned back accordingly, blowing an endless chain of
smoke-rings, and watching her face, her supple slenderness, the deft
movements of her hand, with a contentment whose vital ingredients he
either could not or would not recognise--yet.

For a full week he had spent many hours of each day in smoking and
watching her thus; and the fact that he had never yet found the
occupation monotonous was a danger-signal in itself. But your
comfort-loving man is singularly obtuse in the matter of
danger-signals: and loyalty apart, Richardson was too genuinely devoted
to his friend to admit the possibility of that which was almost an
accomplished fact. The man was not built for high tragedy; and, in
truth, the sittings were an equal pleasure to him when Lenox joined
them, as he often did; the two men smoking and talking horses or their
beloved 'shop,' while Quita worked and listened, and interrupted
without scruple whenever the spirit moved her.

Yet beneath the smooth-seeming surface of things Lenox was more than
ever aware of her curious detachment, of a disturbing sense that his
hold over her was still an imperfect thing. Nor was he altogether
mistaken. Quita had not yet learned to give herself royally. The fact
th