She
was still crying, but she had half risen at the sound of his blows, and
was staring at him through wet eyes.

Leighton started walking up and down, the frown still on his brow.
Finally he came to a stop before the couch.

"Vi," he said--"Vi, listen! You must tell me something. It isn't a fair
question, but never mind that."

She lifted a tear-stained face.

"Vi," said Leighton, tensely, "did he follow?"

Vi raised herself on her arms and stared at him for a moment before she
gasped:

"You fool, do you suppose I would have cared if he had followed?" Then
shame gripped her, and she threw herself full-length again, face down.
Her shoulders shook, but she made no sound.

Leighton waited half an hour. He spent the time walking up and down and
smoking cigarettes. He was no longer frowning. At the end of the
half-hour he caught Vi by the arms and lifted her to her feet.

"Come on," he said.

Vi stared at him as one half-awakened.

"I don't want to go anywhere," she said. "I'm very well here."

"Nonsense!" said Leighton, "you don't realize what you're doing to
yourself. On my word, you look positively puttyish."

"Puttyish!" cried Vi, a flush of anger rising to her face. "Grapes,
you're brutal! Since when have you learned to trample on a woman?"

"That's better," said Leighton, coolly. "I thought it would rouse you a
bit."

Vi almost smiled at herself. She laid her hand on Leighton's arm and
turned him toward the door.

"And they still say that no man knows women," she said. She paused and
looked back at the fragments of the statue. Her lips twisted. "Even
boys," she added, "pick out our naked souls and slap them in our faces."

As they walked slowly toward the flat, Vi said:

"I know why you had to ask that question. I'm glad you did. You were
misjudging Lew. But you can be sure of one thing: no one but us three
ever saw that statue; I know now that no one but just Lew and myself
were ever meant to see it. He didn't want to model me that way. When I
asked for it, he hesitated, then suddenly he gave in." She paused for a
moment, then she added, "I believe it's part of a man's job to know when
to trample on women."

CHAPTER XXXIII

It was night at the flat. There was just chill enough in the air to
justify a cozy little fire. Through the open windows came the low hum of
London, subdued by walls and distance to the pitch of a friendly
accompaniment to talk. In two great leathern chairs, half