broken lines of her grey-green dress lending height and dignity
to her natural grace; the glitter of defiance gone out of her eyes.

Lenox set his lips, and confounded the advantages nature and art
conspire to bestow upon some women, more especially when they know
themselves beloved. The mere man in him had one impulse only,--to take
instant possession of her; to conquer her lurking antagonism by sheer
force of passion and of will. But he had sense enough to know that
such primitive methods would not shift, by one hair's-breadth, their
real point of division; would, in fact, be no less than inverted
defeat. The heart of her was secure:--that he knew. It was her
detached, elusive mind and spirit that were still to win; and a man's
arms had small concern with that form of capture.

Quita vouchsafed him a glance as he entered. Then her gaze returned to
the picture.

"One misses him," she said, presumably to the tall figure on the
hearth-rug. "I think I have never known a man so uniformly cheerful
and sweet-tempered. But it is selfish to grudge him a little change of
atmosphere. And no doubt he is having a livelier evening than we are."

She was facing her husband now; but something in his aspect made her
feel suddenly ashamed of using small weapons against a nature too
magnanimous to retaliate. And, without giving him time to answer, she
went on, a little hurriedly, "Eldred, if this intolerable state of
things means that you really imagine I am--how does one put anything so
detestable?--growing . . . too fond of Mr Richardson, you can set your
mind at rest. Morality apart, you are much too masterful, too
large--in every way--to leave room for any one else in a woman's heart,
once she has let you in."

"Thank you," Lenox answered, in a non-committal tone. But a shadow
passed from his face, and she saw it.

"Of course I know it has been rather marked this last week. But that
was simply because for the moment he and my picture were the same
thing. Being absorbed in one meant being absorbed in the other. To
produce a living portrait, one needs to get inside the subject of it as
far as possible. At least, I do. And on the whole, I think my method
is justified by the result!"

But Lenox, as he stood listening, experienced fresh proof of man's
innate spirit of perversity. For many days past he had been angered by
the suspicion that in this affair of portrait painting, the subject
counted for too much;--an