e untried strength within him.

"But when are you coming back to us, Duane?"

"I don't know. Father's letters perplex me. I'll write you every day, of
course."

A quick colour tinted her skin:

"And I will write you every day. I will begin to-day. Kathleen and I
expect to be here in September. But you will come back before that and
keep Scott company; won't you?"

"I want to get into harness again," he said slowly. "I want to settle
down to work."

"Can't you work here?"

"Not very well."

"Why?"

"To tell the truth," he admitted, smiling, "I require something more
like a working studio than Miller's garret."

"That's what I thought," she said shyly, "and Scott and I have the plans
for a studio all ready; and the men are to begin Monday, and Miller is
to take the new gate cottage. Oh, the plans are really very wonderful!"
she added hastily, as Duane looked grateful but dubious. "Rollins and
Calvert drew them. I wrote to Billy Calvert and sent him the original
plans for Hurryon Lodge. Duane, I thought it would please you----"

"It does, you dear, generous girl! I'm a trifle overwhelmed, that's all
my silence meant. You ought not to do this for me----"

"Why? Aren't we to be as near each other as we can be until--I am
ready--for something--closer?"

"Yes.... Certainly.... I'll arrange to work out certain things up here.
As for models, if there is nothing suitable at Westgate village, you
won't mind my importing some, will you?"

"No," she said, becoming very serious and gravely interested, as
befitted the fiancee of a painter of consequence. "You will do what is
necessary, of course; because I--few girls--are accustomed in the
beginning to the details of such a profession as yours; and I'm very
ignorant, Duane, and I must learn how to second you--intelligently"--she
blushed--"that is, if I'm to amount to anything as an artist's wife."

"You dear!" he whispered.

"No; I tell you I am totally ignorant. A studio is an awesome place to
me. I merely know enough to keep out of it when you are using models.
That is safest, isn't it?"

He said, intensely amused: "It might be safer not to give pink teas
while I am working from the nude."

"Duane! Do you think me a perfect ninny? Anyway, you're not _always_
painting Venus and Ariadne and horrid Ledas, are you?"

"Not always!" he managed to assure her; and her pretty, confused
laughter mingled with his unembarrassed mirth as the motor-car swung up
to carry