p with me when you knew nobody here," she said
bitterly, "and as soon as you made friends with other people you threw me
aside, like an old glove"--she repeated the stale metaphor with
satisfaction--"like an old glove. All right, I don't care, but I'm not
going to be made a fool of another time."

There was a suspicion of truth in what she said, and it made Philip angry
enough to answer what first came into his head.

"Hang it all, I only asked your advice because I saw it pleased you."

She gave a gasp and threw him a sudden look of anguish. Then two tears
rolled down her cheeks. She looked frowsy and grotesque. Philip, not
knowing what on earth this new attitude implied, went back to his work. He
was uneasy and conscience-stricken; but he would not go to her and say he
was sorry if he had caused her pain, because he was afraid she would take
the opportunity to snub him. For two or three weeks she did not speak to
him, and, after Philip had got over the discomfort of being cut by her, he
was somewhat relieved to be free from so difficult a friendship. He had
been a little disconcerted by the air of proprietorship she assumed over
him. She was an extraordinary woman. She came every day to the studio at
eight o'clock, and was ready to start working when the model was in
position; she worked steadily, talking to no one, struggling hour after
hour with difficulties she could not overcome, and remained till the clock
struck twelve. Her work was hopeless. There was not in it the smallest
approach even to the mediocre achievement at which most of the young
persons were able after some months to arrive. She wore every day the same
ugly brown dress, with the mud of the last wet day still caked on the hem
and with the raggedness, which Philip had noticed the first time he saw
her, still unmended.

But one day she came up to him, and with a scarlet face asked whether she
might speak to him afterwards.

"Of course, as much as you like," smiled Philip. "I'll wait behind at
twelve."

He went to her when the day's work was over.

"Will you walk a little bit with me?" she said, looking away from him with
embarrassment.

"Certainly."

They walked for two or three minutes in silence.

"D'you remember what you said to me the other day?" she asked then on a
sudden.

"Oh, I say, don't let's quarrel," said Philip. "It really isn't worth
while."

She gave a quick, painful inspiration.

"I don't want to quarrel with you. You'