t, Mr. Brant
was able to give sincere approval. Although the place was cramped
no necessary detail was lacking. Charlotte had not spared expense
in transporting material or in fitting the spot with the requisite
conveniences for swift and sure work. In a very few minutes Brant was
showing his pupil the negative, which her trained eye was fully able
to appreciate.

"Oh, that will make a perfect print," she exclaimed, everything else
forgotten in the joy of the artist over the overcoming of difficulties.
"You certainly have conquered almost the last obstacle to the making of
flashlight portraits. That will be soft as daylight. I will make the
print to-morrow and let you know."

"You don't mean to send me merely a report of its appearance, I hope."

She laughed. "Of course I'll make a print for you, if you want it.
Perhaps you'll admit, when you see the setting, that the old room isn't
such an inartistic choice for a photographer."

"The old room is delightful--as a background. But when your feet are
freezing on its cold floor, in the dead of next winter--Never mind, we
won't go back to that. I admit it's a September night, and there's no use
in my borrowing trouble. Besides, I suppose I must be off in half an
hour. Let's make the most of it."

They sat in the room in question and talked of developers and
fixing-baths, of processes and results, and Charlotte found such interest
in these technical topics that she glowed and sparkled as another woman
might have done at talk of quite different things. She knew well enough
that nobody could give her greater aid or inspiration in her work than
Eugene Brant, whose signature upon any portrait meant approval in the
large world where he was known.

In spite of his over-heaviness of outline he was not an uninteresting
figure as he sat there. His face had not taken on superfluous flesh as
his body had acquired weight, and its lines were good to the eye of the
artist. His eye was clear, his smile full and not lacking in a certain
winning quality which spoke of sympathy and understanding. One who had
never before seen him would not doubt that here was a man worth
acquaintance, in spite of the fact that his only labour was in the
pursuit of a fancy rather than in the making of a living.

The hour came for his reluctant departure. Standing on Charlotte's shaky
little porch he looked up at her as she stood on the threshold above him.
Against the light in the room behind her the ou