rtain duties toward one's friends to perform. She did not even
care to go down to the Park of a forenoon. She always professed her
readiness to go, but he fancied it was a trifle tiresome for her; and
so, when there was nothing particular going on in the studio, he would
walk down through Kensington Gardens himself, and have a chat with
some friends, followed generally by luncheon with this or the other
party of them. Sheila had been taught that she ought not to come so
frequently to that studio. Bras would not lie quiet. Moreover, if
dealers or other strangers should come in, would they not take her
for a model? So Sheila stayed at home; and Mr. Lavender, after having
dressed with care in the morning--with very singular care, indeed,
considering that he was going to his work--used to go down to his
studio to smoke a cigarette. The chances were that he was not in a
humor for working. He would sit down in an easy-chair and kick his
heels on the floor for a time, watching perhaps the sunlight come in
through the upper part of the windows and paint yellow squares on
the opposite wall. Then he would go out and lock the door behind him,
leaving no message whatever for those crowds of importunate dealers
who, as Sheila fancied, were besieging him with offers in one hand and
purses of gold in the other.

One morning, after she had been indoors for two or three days, and had
grown hopelessly tired of the monotony of watching that sunlit square,
she was filled with an unconquerable longing to go away, for however
brief a space, from the sight of houses. The morning was sweet and
clear and bright, white clouds were slowly crossing a fair blue sky,
and a fresh and cool breeze was blowing in at the open French windows.

"Bras," she said, going down stairs and out into the small garden, "we
are going into the country."

The great deer-hound seemed to know, and rose and came to her with
great gravity, while she clasped on the leash. He was no frisky animal
to show his delight by yelping and gamboling, but he laid his long
nose in her hand, and slowly wagged the down-drooping curve of his
shaggy tail; and then he placidly walked by her side up into the hall,
where he stood awaiting her.

She would go along and beg of her husband to leave his work for a day
and go with her for a walk down to Richmond Park. She had often heard
Mr. Ingram speak of walking down, and she remembered that much of the
road was pretty. Why should not her h