throng, far more important, called by a destiny infinitely
higher than theirs. And none of them suspected it. For the first time
he saw himself as they saw him. They admired him as a thing, an animal
trained especially for them, a prize bullock. As a human being they
disregarded him. Nay, in the depth of their hearts they despised him.
Not one of them would have stood where he did. He would have considered
it--rightly--as degrading to his manhood.

The head of the school snapped his fingers impatiently and fussed up to
the model-stand. "What's the matter? Tired already? Take it easy for a
minute, if you like."

"No," said Paul, instinctively stiffening himself. "I'm never tired."

It was his boast that he could stand longer in a given pose than any
other model, and thereby he had earned reputation.

"Then don't go to pieces, my boy," said the head of the school, not
unkindly. "You're supposed to be a Greek athlete and not Venus rising
from the sea or a jelly at a children's party."

Paul flushed all over, and insane anger shook him. How dared the man
speak to him like that? He kept the pose, thinking wild thoughts. Every
moment the strain grew less bearable, the consciousness of his
degradation more intense. He longed for something to happen, something
dramatic, something that would show the vampires what manner of man he
was. He was histrionic in his anguish.

A fly settled on his back--a damp, sluggish fly that had survived the
winter--and it crawled horribly up his spine. He bore it for a few
moments, and then his over-excited nerves gave way and he dashed his
hand behind him. Somebody laughed. He raised his clenched fists and
glared at the class.

"Ay, yo' can laugh--you can laugh till yo' bust!" he cried, falling
back into his Lancashire accent. "But yo'll never see me, here agen.
Never, never, never, so help me God!"

He rushed away. The head of the school followed him and, while he was
dressing, reasoned with him.

"Nay," said Paul. "Never agen. Aw'm doan wi' th' whole business."

And as Paul walked home through the hurrying streets, he thought
regretfully of twenty speeches which would have more adequately
signified his indignant retirement from the profession.

CHAPTER VI

PAUL'S model-self being dead, he regarded it with complacency and set
his foot on it, little doubting that it was another stepping-stone.

He spoke loftily of his independence.

"But how are you going to earn your living?