nt any more tea?"

He passed his cup, watching her constantly and wondering why since he
had progressed thus far in her favour not all his well-tried devices
could advance him a single pace further. He had learned during a long
and varied experience that the chief difficulty in these little affairs
was that of breaking down the barrier which ordinarily precludes
discussion of such intimately personal matters. Once this was
accomplished he had found his art to be a weapon against which woman's
vanity was impotent. Unfortunately for his chance of success, Sir
Jacques had also been a graduate of this school of artistic libertinage.

"There is something selfish about a girl who keeps her beauty all to
herself when it might delight future generations," he said, taking the
newly filled cup from Flamby. "Besides, it really is a compliment, kid,
to ask you to pose for a big thing like _The Dreaming Keats_. It's going
to be my masterpiece."

"Our next picture is always going to be our masterpiece," murmured
Flamby wisely, taking an Egyptian cigarette from the Japanese cabinet on
the table.

"But I think I can claim to know what I'm talking about, Flamby. It
means that I regard you as one of the prettiest girls in London."

"Your vanity is most soothing," said Flamby, curling herself up
comfortably amid the poppy-hued cushions and trying to blow rings of
smoke.

"Where does the vanity come in?"

"In your delightful presumption. Do you honestly believe, Orlando, that
any woman in London would turn amateur model if you asked her?"

"I don't say that _any_ woman would do so, but almost any pretty woman
would."

"I don't believe it."

"You know who my model was for _Eunice_, don't you?"

"I have heard that Lady Daphne Freyle posed for it and the hair is like
hers certainly, but the face of the figure is turned away. Oh!--how
funny."

"What is funny?"

"It has just occurred to me that a number of your pictures are like
that: the figure is either veiled or half looking away."

"That is necessary when one's models are so well-known."

Flamby hugged her knees tightly and gazed at the speaker as if
fascinated. She was endeavouring to readjust her perspective. Vanity in
women assumed many strange shapes. There were those who bartered honour
for the right to live and in order that they might escape starvation.
These were pitiful. There were some who bought jewels at the price of
shame, and others who sold body and soul f