Mr.Purcey had thought, 'Rather a good-lookin' girl,' and his eyes strayed somewhat continually in her direction.

There was something piquant and, as it were, unlawfully enticing to him in the fact that she was a real artist's model.
Mr.Stone's way of noticing her had been different.

He had approached in his slightly inconvenient way, as though seeing but one thing in the whole world.
"You are living by yourself ?" he had said.

"I shall come and see you." Made by the Art Critic or by Mr.Purcey, that somewhat strange remark would have had one meaning; made by Mr.Stone it obviously had another.
Having finished what he had to say, the author of the book of "Universal Brotherhood" had bowed and turned to go.

Perceiving that he saw before him the door and nothing else, everybody made way for him at once.
The remarks that usually arose behind his back began to be heard--"Extraordinary old man!" "You know, he bathes in the Serpentine all the year round ?" "And he cooks his food himself, and does his own room, they say; and all the rest of his time he writes a book!" "A perfect crank!".