nto abominable despondency, spending a week of impotence
and doubt, a whole week of torture, during which he fancied himself
struck silly. But he was getting over it, he had resumed his usual life,
his resigned solitary struggle with his great picture, when one foggy
morning, towards the end of October, he started and hastily set his
palette aside. There had been no knock, but he had just recognised the
footfall coming up the stairs. He opened the door and she walked in. She
had come at last.

Christine that day wore a large cloak of grey material which enveloped
her from head to foot. Her little velvet hat was dark, and the fog
outside had pearled her black lace veil. But he thought her looking very
cheerful, with the first slight shiver of winter upon her. She at once
began to make excuses for having so long delayed her return. She smiled
at him in her pretty candid manner, confessed that she had hesitated,
and that she had almost made up her mind to come no more. Yes, she had
her own opinions about things, which she felt sure he understood. As it
happened, he did not understand at all--he had no wish to understand,
seeing that she was there. It was quite sufficient that she was not
vexed with him, that she would consent to look in now and then like a
chum. There were no explanations; they kept their respective torments
and the struggles of recent times to themselves. For nearly an hour they
chatted together right pleasantly, with nothing hidden nor antagonistic
remaining between them; it was as if an understanding had been arrived
at, unknown to themselves, and while they were far apart. She did not
even appear to notice the sketches and studies on the walls. For a
moment she looked fixedly at the large picture, at the figure of the
woman lying on the grass under the blazing golden sun. No, it was not
like herself, that girl had neither her face nor her body. How silly
to have fancied that such a horrid mess of colour was herself! And her
friendship for the young fellow was heightened by a touch of pity; he
could not even convey a likeness. When she went off, it was she who on
the threshold cordially held out her hand.

'You know, I shall come back again--'

'Yes, in two months' time.'

'No, next week. You'll see, next Thursday.'

On the Thursday she punctually returned, and after that she did not miss
a week. At first she had no particular day for calling, simply taking
advantage of her opportunities; but subse