agan joy in mere living,' reflected Mrs. Venables, and
continued: 'If one could call oneself, definitely, a member of any
faith.... But one cannot, after all, sacrifice truth to beauty--even to
the beauty of sympathy and close community with others.... You are happy
in having found a firm foothold.'

Mrs. Venables was not crude enough to ask questions on these subjects;
she drew confidence gently towards her. Doubt found in her always a
ready hearer. But Betty, it seemed, was not in doubt.

A further step in intimacy Mrs. Venables achieved.

'If there is anything I can do to help you.... I should be glad, you
know, to be of any service to your father's children.... We must see a
great deal of each other.'

'Thank you very much,' said Betty, considering.

Mrs. Venables perceived the pondering glance of the melancholy eyes, and
leaned forward, laying a gentle hand on the thin childish one, waiting
confidence.

'Well ... if you would be so awfully kind as to l-lend us twenty
francs,' the sad tones stammered.

'Lend you....'

Mrs. Venables drew back; her surprise startled Betty. It was, surely, a
very usual and natural request.

'Of course,' Mrs. Venables said gently, after a moment. 'I will give it
to you now.... I am so sorry....'

'Thank you tremendously.'

Betty put the notes in her purse. Mrs. Venables became aware that the
Crevequer smile, with the single dimple, was rather engaging. Then Tommy
came up with Venables, and said it was time to go away.

Miss Varley, as she said good-bye, referred to Betty's statement that
she sometimes posed.

'Will you for me? I am painting a picture, and I should be very grateful
if you would.'

The unsmiling directness of the tone made the request very much a matter
of business. Betty said she would.

'Warren and Prudence are always painting,' Miranda explained mournfully.
'Their pictures are rotten, I think; I hate them.'

The Crevequers went.

'Very picturesque; very striking; very sad,' Mrs. Venables observed.

'Very obvious,' Warren commented. 'I would have betted a guinea that
Crevequer would borrow from me; he did. I call that so obvious as to be
tiresome.'

To his cousin, a little later, he remarked:

'You're standing on a quite false pedestal of superiority, you know.
Because you're going to paint her yourself. Where's the difference?'

'Ah, well, there is some. To me she's frankly copy, you see; I shall
pretend nothing else; I shan't call it making