s. Do not fight. You were not made to fight."

"Why not? I am courageous."

"Yes, you are courageous, but you are not strong. Don't fight, because
you will batter yourself against an impenetrable wall and suffer defeat.
Do you know where Karl's heart is?"

"No."

"Then let me tell you. He loves Olga. He cannot love any one else. He
has no room in his heart for any other image. Do not make sorrow for
yourself, my child. Forget. Go away. Karl is the man for another woman."

Elsa was courageous. She had set aside her conventional training and
ideas when she came to the studio to see Karl--to fight for him. Now she
resolved that Millar should not defeat her again. She looked at him
squarely and said:

"In spite of all that you tell me, I shall not give up."

In spite of her resolve to fight she was on the verge of tears. She sat
at a table, shrinking from the sinister figure before her. Millar
inspired her with a nameless terror, and it was almost against her will
that she listened.

"Let me tell you what you must do," he said, sitting down in front of
her. "Do you know what you should do?"

"I don't like to have you sit in judgment on me this way," she
protested. "You question me as if you were a judge."

"No, it is not that, but you answer as if you were a prisoner. Now,
little Elsa, stand up and listen. You know that Karl is in love with
Olga."

"Yes, I know it; it is the only thing I do know."

"Then you should give Karl up."

"I can't give him up."

"You must learn."

"How? From whom shall I learn?"

"Let me see; I think I have here the very person," Millar said.

He walked over and opened the hall door.

"Mimi, come in here and wait; it is warmer," he called.

CHAPTER XI

To the amazement of Elsa, the shrinking little model came in, hesitating
on the threshold. She wore a red woolen jersey over her bodice that
fitted her tightly and made her look very slight and shivering. She
looked with wide-open eyes at the beautiful girl and dropped a courtesy
as she sat in the seat Millar drew out for her. Elsa nodded at her in
silence, and Millar, after watching them a few seconds with a smile of
amusement, walked out of the room, whistling softly. Mimi was the first
to break the silence, squirming under Elsa's direct scrutiny.

"Madam is waiting for the artist?"

"Yes," Elsa replied shortly.

"So am I," Mimi said, adding, with engaging frankness:

"He went on a spree last night. When he d