This is a good picture." The man with the grey eyes looked suitably impressed.
"I'm glad you find it so," he replied meekly.

"I think it wants just one thing more.

If"-- he spoke abstractly--"if the Fairy Queen were resting just there"-- his finger indicated the exact point on the canvas--"tired, you know, because she had been dancing to one of the Mortals--lucky beggar, wasn't he ?--why, I think the picture would be complete." Magda shot him a swift glance of comprehension.

Then, without a word, she moved towards the bole of a tree and flung herself down with all the supple grace of a young faun.

The artist snatched up his palette; the pose she had assumed without a hint from him was inimitable--the slender limbs relaxed and drooping exactly as though from sheer fatigue.