There seemed to be, too, a curious lack of authority about his brush strokes at intervals--moments of grave perplexity, indecision almost resembling the hesitation of inexperience--and for the first time she saw in his gray eyes the narrowing concentration of mental uncertainty.
It seemed to her sometimes as though she were looking at a total stranger.

She had never thought of him as having any capacity for the ordinary and lesser ills, vanities, and vexations--the trivial worries that beset other artists.
"Louis ?" she said, full of curiosity.
"What ?" he demanded, ungraciously.
"You are not one bit like yourself to-day." He made no comment.

She ventured again: "Do I hold the pose properly ?" "Yes, thanks," he said, absently.
"May I talk ?" "I'd rather you didn't, Valerie, just at present." "All right," she rejoined, cheerfully; but her pretty eyes watched him very earnestly, a little troubled.
When she was tired the pose ended; that had been their rule; but long after her neck and back and thighs and limbs begged for relief, she held the pose, reluctant to interrupt him.

When at last she could endure it no longer she moved; but her right leg had lost not only all sense of feeling but all power to support her; and down she came with a surprised and frightened little exclamation--and he sprang to her and swung her to her feet again.
"Valerie! You bad little thing! Don't you know enough to stop when you're tired ?" [Illustration: "He picked up a bit of white chalk ...

and traced on the floor the outline of her shoes."] "I--didn't know I was so utterly gone," she said, bewildered.
He passed his arm around her and supported her to the sofa where she sat, demure, a little surprised at her collapse, yet shyly enjoying his disconcerted attentions to her.
"It's your fault, Kelly.