good. And they pay piece-work prices just the same; and they want
girls, not real girls, but things of bright paint like these! Oh, they
know what they want--and they must be common in order to suit--girls of
just paint----"

"And women of just flesh," said Bedient. "New York has shown me that
about so many men!"

This startled her--made her forget the sailor part. It was particularly
in the range of her mood that moment, and seemed finished.

"You're going to feel a lot better, and soon," he went on. "It's going
to be much better than you think----"

She drew suddenly back, hatred altering her features as a gust of wind
on the face of a pool.

"You mean my marriage?" she asked, clearing her voice.

"I did not know that you were to be married," he said quickly. "I'm
sorry not to have been clearer. I meant the days to come through your
work--and nothing more."

"A few have heard that I'm to be married," she said. "I thought you had
heard. As a matter of fact, it is not settled. Oh, I have croaked to
you terribly--please forgive me!"

"That first night, I felt that we were old friends at once," he added,
rising and standing before her. "The next day, you said it was just
like a dream--the night before--and it was the same to me. We went up
to Miss Nettleton's on the minute, just as if we were old playmates,
and you had said, 'Let's----'... So to-day, you have only told an old
friend things--trying things--exactly as you should. And I--I think
you're brave to have done so well--for so long. I like New York better.
I'm coming again. I like your pictures. They are not just paint....
Hasn't anyone told you--don't you know--that it wouldn't hurt you at
all to do the others--if your real pictures were just paint? And since
you are driven to do them, and don't do them out of greed, nor through
commonness, nor by habit, they can't hurt your real work? I really
believe, too, that it is what you have done that will help you, and
bring the better times, and not what anyone else will do.... I seem to
be talking a great deal--as I could not at all, except for the sense of
an old friend's authority, and to one I have found rare and admirable.
Believe me, I have very good eyes,--New York has not printed its metal
soul upon you."

The Grey One had listened with bowed head. A tall woman is at her
loveliest, standing so. She regarded his face searchingly for an
instant, smiled, and turned away.

* * *