made through Fagerolles, and
who was flinging her youth about the Paris studios.

'She insisted upon seeing your studio, so I brought her,' explained the
journalist.

The girl, however, without waiting, was already walking about and making
remarks, with perfect freedom of manner. 'Oh! how funny it is here. And
what funny painting. Come, there's a good fellow, show me everything. I
want to see everything.'

Claude, apprehensively anxious, was afraid that she might push the
screen aside. He pictured Christine behind it, and felt distracted
already at what she might hear.

'You know what she has come to ask of you?' resumed Jory cheerfully.
'What, don't you remember? You promised that she might pose for
something. And she'll do so if you like.'

'Of course I will,' said Irma.

'The fact is,' replied Claude, in an embarrassed tone, 'my picture here
will take up all my time till the Salon. I have a figure in it that
gives me a deal of trouble. It's impossible to perfect it with those
confounded models.'

Irma had stationed herself in front of the picture, and looked at it
with a knowing air. 'Oh! I see,' she said, 'that woman in the grass, eh?
Do you think I could be of any use to you?'

Jory flared up in a moment, warmly approving the idea, but Claude with
the greatest energy replied, 'No, no madame wouldn't suit. She is not at
all what I want for this picture; not at all.'

Then he went on stammering excuses. He would be only too pleased later
on, but just now he was afraid that another model would quite complete
his confusion over that picture; and Irma responded by shrugging her
shoulders, and looking at him with an air of smiling contempt.

Jory, however, now began to chat about their friends. Why had not
Claude come to Sandoz's on the previous Thursday? One never saw him now.
Dubuche asserted all sorts of things about him. There had been a row
between Fagerolles and Mahoudeau on the subject whether evening dress
was a thing to be reproduced in sculpture. Then on the previous Sunday
Gagniere had returned home from a Wagner concert with a black eye. He,
Jory, had nearly had a duel at the Cafe Baudequin on account of one of
his last articles in 'The Drummer.' The fact was he was giving it hot to
the twopenny-halfpenny painters, the men with the usurped reputations!
The campaign against the hanging committee of the Salon was making a
deuce of a row; not a shred would be left of those guardians of the
ideal, wh