When painting that first picture, he had been so sure of himself.
Working with careless ease, he had been suave and pleasant in his manner, with ready smile or laugh.

Why, she questioned, was he, now, so grave and serious?
Why did he pause so often, to sit staring at his canvas, or to pace the floor?
Why did he seem to be so uncertain--to be questioning, searching, hesitating?
The woman thought that she knew.

Rejoicing in her fancied victory--all but won--she looked forward to the triumphant moment when this splendid man should be swept from his feet by the force of the passion she thought she saw him struggling to conceal.

Meanwhile she tempted him by all the wiles she knew--inviting him with eyes and lips and graceful pose and meaning gesture.
And Aaron King, with clear, untroubled eye seeing all; with cool brain understanding all; with steady, skillful hand, ruled supremely by his purpose, painted that which he saw and understood into his portrait of her.
So they came to the last sitting.

On the following evening, Mrs.Taine was giving a dinner at the house on Fairlands Heights, at which the artist was to meet some people who would be--as she said--useful to him.