Their friendship had developed until it was the very centre of her life,
but it brought with it the usual toll. It loosed all the wants of her
nature; needs and demands she had not dreamed of sprang into being, into
urgency. She wanted love, children, a mate. The old intellectual
satisfactions were gone, swept away on the tide of these new emotions.

No thought of Martin Christiansen entered her head, in this relation.
She thought of him as one of the gods, high above, upon remote peaks,
descending now and then to help and inspire some stumbling mortal, even
as he had rescued her. She knew him as the perfect friend, and as such
she valued him.

It was the confluence of all these causes which made her drop her mask
for a second, when Jerry called her high priestess of the home.

"I had a letter from the Bryce Cricket to-day. She sent her love to
you," he said, changing the subject.

"Thanks. She writes you, does she?"

"Yes, the little idiot."

"Are her parents back yet?"

"They all come next week."

"You begin the portraits then?"

"I suppose so."

"Miss Morton is very lovely, you will like painting her."

"Women are a great bother, Jane Judd," he sighed.

"Like men."

He laughed at that, and stood back to view his work.

"This is good. It has a sort of haunting quality, that is yours."

The door was flung open, and Bobs rushed in.

"Jerry, you are home!" she cried, both hands out.

"Bobs! Welcome back! My eye, it's fine to see you. I nearly died of
loneliness."

"Did you? Did you miss me?"

"Rather. Ask Jane."

"Oh, good-morning, Jane Judd," Bobs said.

Jane greeted her, rose, gathered her things, and went into the bedroom.

"Jerry, how well you look. Did you have a good time?"

"So-so."

"You came back sooner than I expected you."

"Yes--I wanted to get to work."

"Are you engaged to Miss Morton?"

"Nonsense! Of course not."

"Oh, I'm so glad," with a deep sigh.

Jane passed through on her way out, nodding good-bye to them.

"How was the Philadelphia show, Bobs?"

"Good. I got a first."

"What? And you stand here babbling about my doings when you got a first?
Why, bless your old heart, I'm crazy about it!" he cried.

She came and put her two hands on his shoulders, looking into his face.

"Are you glad, Jerry?"

He put his hands over hers.

"I'm delighted. I'm proud of you."

She leaned her forehead against his coat. He felt her body shake, as she
tried to swallow th