it out?'

'I want it, myself, Dolly, please,' said Vincent; 'I don't think I can
do without it just yet.'

'I don't mean your real head,' said Dolly, 'I believe you know
that--it's only the outline I want!'

'It isn't a very dreadful operation, Vincent,' said Mabel. 'Dolly has
been victimising all her friends lately, but she doesn't hurt them.'

'Very well, Dolly, I consent,' said Vincent; 'only be gentle with me.'

'Sit down here on this chair against the wall,' said Dolly,
imperiously. 'Mabel, please take the shade off the lamp and put it
over here.' She armed herself with a pencil and a large sheet of white
paper as she spoke. 'Now, Vincent, put yourself so that your shadow
comes just here, and keep perfectly still. Don't move, or talk, or
anything, or your profile will be spoilt!'

'I feel very nervous, Dolly,' said Vincent, sitting down obediently.

'What a coward you must be! Why, one of the boys at Colin's school
said he rather liked it. Will you hold his head steady, Mabel,
please?--no, you hold the paper up while I trace.'

Vincent sat still while Mabel leaned over the back of his chair, with
one hand lightly touching his shoulder, while her soft hair swept
across his cheek now and then. Long after--as long as he lived, in
fact--he remembered those moments with a thrill.

'Now I have done, Vincent,' cried Dolly, triumphantly, after some
laborious tracing on the paper. 'You haven't got _much_ of a profile,
but it will be exactly like you when I've cut it out. There!' she
said, as she held up a life-size head cut out in curling black paper;
'don't you think it's like you, yourself?'

'I don't know,' said Vincent, inspecting it rather dubiously, 'but I
must say I hope it isn't.'

'I'll give you a copy to take away with you,' said Dolly, generously,
as she cut out another black head with her deft little hands. 'There,
that's for you, Vincent--you won't give it away, _will_ you?'

'Shall I promise to wear it always next to my heart, Dolly?'

Dolly considered this question. 'I think you'd better not,' she said
at last: 'it would keep you warm certainly, but I'm afraid the black
comes off--you must have it mounted on cardboard and framed, you
know.'

At this point Mrs. Langton came rustling down, and Vincent rose to
meet her, with a desperate hope that he would be asked to spend the
whole of his last evening with them--a hope that was doomed to
disappointment.

'My dear Vincent,' she said, holding