eechless, overcome, her little white
gloved hand clutching her breast.

Valerie, accustomed to the climb, was in nowise distressed; and went
serenely about her business while the countess was recovering.

"I am going to prepare luncheon; may I hope you will remain and share it
with me?" she asked.

The countess nodded, slowly recovering her breath and glancing curiously
around the room.

"You see I have only an hour between poses," observed Valerie, moving
swiftly from cupboard to kitchenette, "so luncheon is always rather
simple. Miss Tevis, with whom I live, never lunches here, so I take
what there is left from breakfast."

[Illustration: The Countess d'Enver.]

A little later they were seated at a small table together, sipping
chocolate. There was cold meat, a light salad, and fruit. The
conversation was as haphazard and casual as the luncheon, until the
pretty countess lighted a cigarette and tasted her tiny glass of
Port--the latter a gift from Querida. "Do you think it odd of me to
call on you uninvited?" she asked, with that smiling abruptness which
sometimes arises from embarrassment.

"I think it is very sweet of you," said Valerie, "I am very happy to
know that you remember me."

The countess flushed up: "Do you really feel that way about it?"

"Yes," said Valerie, smiling, "or I would not say so."

"Then--you give me courage to tell you that since I first met you I've
been--quite mad about you."

"About _me_!" in smiling surprise.

"Yes. I wanted to know you. I told Mrs. Hind-Willet to ask you to the
club. She did. But you never came.... And I _did_ like you so much."

Valerie said in a sweet, surprised way: "Do you know what I am?"

"Yes; you sit for artists."

"I am a professional model," said Valerie. "I don't believe you
understood that, did you?"

"Yes, I did," said the countess. "You pose for the ensemble, too."

Valerie looked at her incredulously:

"Do you think you would really care to know me? I, an artist's model,
and you, the Countess d'Enver?"

"I was Nellie Jackson before that." She leaned across the table,
smiling, with heightened colour; "I believe I'd never have to pretend
with you. The minute I saw you I liked you. Will you let me talk to
you?"

"Y--yes."

There was a constrained silence; Helene d'Enver touched the water in the
bowl with her finger-tips, dried them, looked up at Valerie, who rose.
Under the window there was a tufted seat; and here they found place