ter of fact she is Robinson--the daughter of a
respectable citizen of that ilk." Yet what more, in sober truth, could
he tell them about her? He might have put it differently, but it was
the information he supposed they wanted. Yet one day he was to learn
that this conciseness had been construed as reserve. Sadler lounged in
one Sunday afternoon, when, as it happened, Wyndham was awaiting his
sister, whose long-deferred visit had at last been arranged for that
day. And, in the course of conversation, the visitor soon let slip out a
word that struck Wyndham like a blow. Sadler had begun by referring to
Miss Robinson as "your friend;" but, presently, as he still reviewed the
painting, out came "your _fiancee_."

"My _fiancee_! What the devil----?"

Sadler apologised; a shrewd meaning smile clung about his massive jaws.
"Of course everybody understands that it's a secret, but when you've
heard of a thing, it's difficult to keep it from slipping out, don't y'
know."

"This is all too absurd!" Wyndham was suddenly impelled to laugh.

"What's absurd about it? It seems likely enough to me; else I shouldn't
have believed it."

"An artist cannot accept a commission without being engaged to his
sitter?" urged Wyndham indignantly.

"Things have a way of getting about, you know," maintained Sadler.

"They have indeed," said Wyndham.

"Well, what are you so annoyed at?" shouted Sadler. "You make me tired.
There's nothing discreditable in being engaged by rumour to a wealthy
and beautiful woman."

Wyndham laughed again. Beautiful! he thought. If only Sadler had met the
everyday Miss Robinson shopping with her mother in the Finchley Road!

"Seriously, do you consider her beautiful?" he asked in a more genial
tone, suddenly curious to hear Sadler's real impression.

"What is beauty?" demanded Sadler. "The moment you can define it, it
ceases to be beauty. Its essence is elusiveness. A touch, a flash--and
you've got it! The lines here are not classical, but your Miss Robinson
has distinct individuality. The eyes are fine. She looks the sort that
would stick to a man. Gee-rusalem! I shouldn't mind having a shot at her
myself. Look here, old fellow, will you introduce me to her? If there's
nothing in it for you, give me a chance."

"Goodbye," said Wyndham sweetly. "You won't think me rude, but I've an
engagement in a minute or two."

"Right!" said Sadler. "I'll be off. Goodbye, Wyndham, old chap. You're a
real damned old sw