ey. As soon as I'm a member of
the Synthesis I'm going to get them to let me be one of the monitors:
that'll concentrate me, if anything will, keeping the rest in order,
and I can get a lot of ideas from posing the model; don't you think so?
But _you've_ got all the ideas you want, already. Aren't you going to
join the sketch class?"

"I don't know but I am," said Cornelia. "I haven't got quite turned
round yet."

"Well, you must do it. I'm going to have the class here, some day, as
soon as I get the place in _perfect_ order. I must have a suit of
Japanese armor for that corner, over there; and then two or three of
those queer-looking, old, long, faded trunks, you know, with eastern
stuffs gaping out of them, to set along the wall. I should be ashamed
to have anybody see it now; but you have an eye, you can supply every
thing with a glance. I'm going to have a bed made up in the alcove,
over there, and sleep here, sometimes: just that broad lounge, you
know, with some rugs on it--I've got the cushions, you see,
already--and mice running over you, for the crumbs you've left when
you've got hungry sitting up late. Are you afraid of mice?"

"Well, I shouldn't care to have them run over me, much," said Cornelia.

"Well, I shouldn't either," said Charmian, "but if you sleep in your
studio, sometime you _have_ to. They all do. Just put your hat in
here," and she glided before Cornelia through the studio door into one
that opened beside it. The room was a dim and silent bedchamber,
appointed with the faultless luxury that characterized the rest of the
apartment. Cornelia had never dreamt of anything like it, but "_Don't_
look at it!" Charmian pleaded. "I hate it, and I'm going to get into
the studio to sleep as soon as I've thought out the kind of hangings.
Well, we shall have to hurry back now," but she kept Cornelia while she
critically rearranged a ribbon on her, and studied the effect of it
over her shoulder in the glass. "Yes," she said, with a deep sigh of
satisfaction, "perfectly Roman! Gladys wouldn't have done for you.
Cornelia was a step in the right direction; but it ought to have been
Fulvia.

"'I should have clung to Fulvia's waist and thrust
The dagger through her side,'"

she chanted tragically; and she flung her arms about Cornelia for
illustration. "_Dream of Fair Women_, you know. What part are you going
to play, today?"

"What part?" Cornelia demanded, freeing herself, with her darke