lounge, a tiny lap-dog on her knee. She was tall and dignified in
mien, with soft grey eyes and bronze-gold hair, among which the sunlight
was playing as it stole through a window behind her. She was the beauty
of the season, and her father's sole heiress. Cold and distant with
others, she was affable and even kind to Leslie Hamilton, and among her
friends it was whispered such treatment could only end in one way; and
though better things had been spoken of for Bee Vandaleur, the wife of
an R.A. was by no means a position to be despised, and if Bee's fancy
lay that way, why----! a shrug of its white shoulders, an elevation of
its pencilled eyebrows, and Society went on its way.

Leslie Hamilton had taken up his position near the door that he might
easily acknowledge each new arrival. He was leaning over the fair Bee
Vandaleur, watching the animation in her beautiful face, the grace with
which she wore her large picture-hat, and the regal manner in which she
sat. He glanced at the gay throng that filled his rooms, growing gayer
still as the tinkle of tiny silver spoons increased in number and
volume; there was not one to compare with Bee, _his_ Bee as he dared, in
his own mind, to call her already. Gentle, dignified, graceful, always
sweet and gracious to him, and with an ample fortune of her own, it was
no wonder the artist felt that she was worth the winning.

"How I should enjoy a peep at your model!" she was saying as she looked
at a rough sketch he was showing her. "Was she as beautiful as you have
made her?"

"She was tolerably----" Hamilton hesitated. "Well, of course an artist's
business is to make the most of good points, and omit the bad. She was a
little rough and troublesome sometimes, but, on the whole, not a bad
sitter."

"And her name?" asked Miss Vandaleur.

"Her name? oh, Mary, or Biddy, or Eily Joyce; really I cannot be sure;
every one in that part of the world is either Eily or Biddy, and Joyce
is the surname of half the population. She was a vain girl, I assure
you; no beauty in her first season thought more of herself than did
she."

"I do not wonder at that," said Bee gently; "there are few women who
possess beauty to such a marvellous degree. If only your Biddy could
come to London she would be worshipped by all who were not utterly
envious."

Just what he had assured Eily himself nine months back, but it is
inconvenient to remember everything one has said so long ago; we live at
a pace n