So you see, I've good reason to be grateful to one dancer!" Magda caught her breath.

She knew now why the man's face had seemed so familiar! He was the artist she had met in the wood at Coverdale the day Sieur Hugh had beaten her--her _"Saint Michel"_! She was conscious of a queer little thrill of excitement as the truth dawned upon her.
"What was the picture called ?" she asked, forcing herself to speak composedly.
"'The Repose of Titania.'" She nodded.

The picture was a very well-known one.

Everybody knew by whom it had been painted.
"Then you must be Michael Quarrington ?" "Yes.

So now, we've been introduced, haven't we ?" It seemed almost as if he had repented of his former churlish manner, and were endeavouring to atone for it.