Again I was a Paul Pry,--we have to be, you know, if we're to do anything worth doing,--and I took him while he sat.

But I dare say you'd better see it first." He took another and smaller picture and placed it on the easel, standing for a moment between it and the onlookers and studying it closely.

Then he stepped aside in silence.
It was merely a head--nothing more--standing out boldly from a dark background.

The face was again Stafford's, but the presentment differed strangely.

It was still beautiful; it had even a beauty the other had not, the beauty of youth and passion.