'Surely she is not going to undress in public!' said Mildred to Elsie, who had come to her easel. VII. Mildred worked hard in the studio. She was always one of the first to arrive, and she did not leave till the model had finished sitting, and during the eight hours, interrupted only by an hour in the middle of the day for lunch, she applied herself to her drawing, eschewing conversation with the students, whether French or English. She did not leave her easel when the model rested; she waited patiently sharpening her pencils or reading--she never came to the studio unprovided with a book. And she made a pretty picture sitting on her high stool, and the students often sketched her during the rests. Although quietly, she was always beautifully dressed. Simple though they appeared to be, her black _crepe de chine_ skirts told of large sums of money spent in fashionable millinery establishments, and her large hats profusely trimmed with ostrich feathers, which suited her so well, contrasted strangely with the poor head-gear of the other girls; and when the weather grew warmer she appeared in a charming shot silk grey and pink, and a black straw hat lightly trimmed with red flowers. In answer to Elsie, who had said that she looked as if she were going to a garden-party, Mildred said: 'I don't see why, because you're an artist, you should be a slattern. I don't feel comfortable in a dirty dress. It makes me feel quite ill.' Although Mildred was constantly with Elsie and Cissy she never seemed to be of their company; and seeing them sitting together in the _Bouillon Duval_, at their table next the window, an observer would be sure to wonder what accident had sent out that rare and subtle girl with such cheerful commonness as Elsie and Cissy. The contrast was even more striking when they entered the eating-house, Mildred looking a little annoyed, and always forgetful of the tariff card which she should take from the door-keeper. Elsie and Cissy triumphant, making for the staircase, as Mildred said to herself, 'with a flourish of cards.' Mildred instinctively hated the _Bouillon Duval_, and only went there because her friends could not afford a restaurant. The traffic of the _Bouillon_ disgusted her; the food, she admitted, was well enough, but, as she said, it was mealing--feeding like an animal in a cage,--not dining or breakfasting. Very often she protested. 'Oh, nonsense,' said Cissy, 'we shall get one of Catherine's tables if we make haste.'