's not big enough,' said Fenwick, doggedly.

Welby withdrew instantly from the picture, and took up his hat. Lord
Findon looked at the artist--half angry, half amused. 'You don't buy
her gloves, sir--I do.'

Eugenie's eyes meanwhile had begun to sparkle, as she stood in her
sable cap and cloak, waiting for her companions. Fenwick approached
her.

'Will you sit to-morrow?'

'I think not--I have some engagements.'

'Next day?'

'I will let you know.'

Fenwick's colour rose.

'There is a good deal to do still--and I must work at my other
picture.'

'Yes, I know. I will write.'

And with a little dry nod of farewell she slipped her hand into her
father's arm and led him away. Welby also saluted pleasantly, and
followed the others.

* * * * *

Fenwick was left to pace his room in a tempest, denouncing himself as
a 'damned fool,' bent on destroying all his own chances in life. Why
was it that Welby's presence always had this effect upon him:--setting
him on edge, and making a bear of him? No!--it was not allowed to
be so handsome, so able, so ingratiating. Yet he knew very well
that Welby made no enemies, and that in his grudging jealousy of a
delightful artist he, Fenwick, stood alone.

He walked to the window. Yes, there they were, all three--Mademoiselle
Barras seemed to have gone her ways separately--just disappearing into
Russell Square. He saw that Welby had possessed himself of the
fair lady's portfolio, and was carrying her shawl. He watched their
intimate, laughing ways--how different from the stiffness she had
just shown _him_--from the friendly, yet distant relations she always
maintained between herself and her painter! A fierce and irritable
ambition swept through him--rebellion against the hampering conditions
of birth and poverty, which he felt as so many chains upon body and
soul. Why was he born the son of a small country tradesman,
narrow, ignorant, and tyrannical?--harassed by penury, denied
opportunities--while a man like Welby found life from the beginning a
broad road, as it were, down a widening valley, to a land of abundance
and delight?

But the question led immediately to an answering outburst of vanity.
He paced up and down, turning from the injustice of the past to
challenge the future. A few more years, and the world would know where
to place _him_--with regard to the men now in the running--men with
half his power--Welby and the like. A mad arro