k you're the nicest thing that ever was."

Eugene caressed her gently.

"And you're my wise girl. But we are no good, neither you nor I. You're
a wastrel and a stray. And I--I hesitate to think what I am."

"What is a wastrel?" she asked. "That's a new one on me. I don't
remember."

"Something or someone that can be thrown away as useless. A stray is a
pigeon that won't stay with the flock."

"That's me," said Carlotta, holding out her firm, smooth arms before her
and grinning mischievously. "I won't stay with any flock. Nix for the
flocks. I'd rather be off with my wise man. He is nice enough for me.
He's better nor nine or ten flocks." She was using corrupt English for
the joy of it. "Just me and you, Prince Charming. Am I your lovely
wastrel? Do you like strays? Say you do. Listen! Do you like strays?"

Eugene had been turning his head away, saying "scandalous! terrible,
you're the worst ever," but she stopped his mouth with her lips.

"Do you?"

"This wastrel, yes. This stray," he replied, smoothing her cheek. "Ah,
you're lovely, Carlotta, you're beautiful. What a wonderful woman you
are."

She gave herself to him completely.

"Whatever I am, I'm yours, wise man," she went on. "You can have
anything you want of me, do anything you please with me. You're like an
opiate to me, Eugene, sweet! You stop my mouth and close my eyes and
seal my ears. You make me forget everything I suppose I might think now
and then but I don't want to. I don't want to! And I don't care. I wish
you were single. I wish I were free. I wish we had an island somewhere
together. Oh, hell! Life is a wearisome tangle, isn't it? 'Take the cash
and let the credit go.'"

By this time Carlotta had heard enough of Eugene's life to understand
what his present condition was. She knew he was sick though not exactly
why. She thought it was due to overwork. She knew he was out of funds
except for certain pictures he had on sale, but that he would regain his
art ability and re-establish himself she did not doubt. She knew
something of Angela and thought it was all right that she should be away
from him, but now she wished the separation might be permanent. She went
into the city and asking about at various art stores learned something
of Eugene's art history and his great promise. It made him all the more
fascinating in her eyes. One of his pictures on exhibition at Pottle
Freres was bought by her after a little while and the money sent to
Euge