. Why? Because I don't want her if you can get her away.
That," he added, with satisfaction, "is philosophy. Isn't it, Drene?"

Guilder intervened pleasantly:

"I don't think Drene is particularly interested in philosophy. I'm sure
I'm not. Shut up, please."

Drene, gravely annoyed, continued to pinch bits of modeling wax out of a
round tin box, and to stick them all over the sketch he was modifying.

Now and then he gave a twirl to the top of his working table, which
revolved with a rusty squeak.

"If you two unusually intelligent gentlemen ask me what good a woman the
world--" began Quair.

"But we don't," interrupted Guilder, in the temperate voice peculiar to
his negative character.

"Anyway," insisted Quair, "here's what I think of 'em--"

"My model, yonder," said Drene, a slight shrug of contempt, "happens
to be feminine, and may also be human. Be decent enough to defer the
development of your rather tiresome theory."

The girl on the model-stand laughed outright at the rebuke, stretched
her limbs and body, and relaxed, launching a questioning glance at
Drene.

"All right; rest a bit," said the sculptor, smearing the bit of wax he
was pinching over the sketch before him.

He gave another twirl or two to the table, wiped his bony fingers on
a handful of cotton waste, picked up his empty pipe, and blew into the
stem, reflectively.

Quair, one of the associated architects of the new opera, who had been
born a gentleman and looked the perfect bounder, sauntered over to
examine the sketch. He was still red from the rebuke he had invited.

Guilder, his senior colleague, got up from the lounge and walked over
also. Drene fitted the sketch into the roughly designed group, where it
belonged, and stood aside, sucking meditatively on his empty pipe.

After a silence:

"It's all right," said Guilder.

Quair remarked that the group seemed to lack flamboyancy. It is true,
however, that, except for Guilder's habitual restraint, the celebrated
firm of architects was inclined to express themselves flamboyantly, and
to interpret Renaissance in terms of Baroque.

"She's some girl," added Quair, looking at the lithe, modeled figure,
and then half turning to include the model, who had seated herself on
the lounge, and was now gazing with interest at the composition sketched
in by Drene for the facade of the new opera.

"Carpeaux and his eternal group--it's the murderous but inevitable
standard of comparison," mu