. A modern Guinevere and Elaine; Siren and
Saint; Sense and Innocence. I congratulate you, old boy; they are
wonderful"--

"Please be quiet for a moment, Harry; they are not for the Salon. They
are two sitters of mine. The one beneath has been here twice--the first
time about a week ago; the second time day before yesterday. The other
came for the first time to-day."

"And they are real, live women, then?"

"Yes. I was in hopes you might recognize one or both of them."

The other shook his head, and gazed from one to the other in silence.

"Do you see any--any resemblance between them?" asked the artist, after
a pause.

"Resemblance! Good Lord, no! Why? Are they related in any way?"

"Not that I am aware of; in fact, I am quite sure they are not. She told
me she had no relatives."

"Um--and which do you refer to as she?"

"Oh, the upper one, of course."

"Well, I don't see any 'of course' about it. She was here to-day for
the first time. I don't see why she should begin by exchanging family
confidences. All things considered, I should have thought it more than
likely you referred to the other. However, I suppose you are familiar
with her family history, too."

"Don't be sarcastic, Harry. I know nothing of either of them; at least
not in that way. The one who came first gave her name as Evelin March.
She came in suddenly, one morning last week, and asked for a sitting.
She had on a light wrap, which she laid off and stood before me as you
see her. During the sitting she was inclined to be lively and talkative.
Her voice is just a trifle harsh, but she is a remarkably brilliant
talker and a very fascinating woman. I had not met the other, then, and
foolishly allowed myself to say some rather silly things to her. When
she came again I did more. You know what a rash fool I am, Harry. Well,
I made love to her, off-hand. She stirred me up terribly for some
reason. Of course, there was nothing of real love in what I felt for
her; it was a brief madness of the head. You know about what I would say
under the circumstances."

"Oh, perfectly. You swore that her eyes were as are lights in a midnight
desert; that her tints would rival the roseate pearl of a June sunset;
that her smiles would be your only diet henceforth and forever; that her
frown would be as terrible as the day of judgment. And now what has the
other one to do with it?"

"Lawton, you will think I am crazy, and I am, perhaps--but I love her;
and mor