In the evenings her only distraction was to go for a drive with Mrs. Fargus. But too often Mrs. Fargus could not leave her husband, and these evenings Mildred spent in reading or in writing letters. The dullness of her life and the narrowness and aridity of her acquaintance induced her to write very often to Ralph, and depression of spirits often tempted her to express herself more affectionately than she would have done in wider and pleasanter circumstances. She once spoke of the pleasure it would give her to see him, she said that she would like to see him walk into the studio. But when he took her at her word and she saw him draw aside the curtain and look in, a cloud of annoyance gathered on her face. But she easily assumed her pretty mysterious smile and said: 'When did you arrive?' 'Only this morning. You said you'd like to see me. I had to come.... I hope you are not angry.' Then noticing that the girl next them was an English girl, Ralph spoke about Mildred's drawing. She did not like him to see it, but he asked her for the charcoal and said if she would give him her place he would see if he could find out what was wrong; he did not think she had got enough movement into the figure. 'Ah, that's what the professor says when he comes round _toujours un peu froid comme mouvement._ I can get the proportions; it is the movement that bothers me.' 'Movement is drawing in the real sense of the word. If they would only teach you to draw by the movement.' He continued to correct Mildred's drawing for some time. When he laid down the charcoal, he said: 'How hot it is here! I wonder how you can bear it.' 'Yes, the heat is dreadful. I'm too exhausted to do much work. Supposing we go out.' They went downstairs and some way along the Passage des Panoramas without speaking. At last Mildred said: 'Are you going to be in Paris for long?' 'No, I'm going back at once, perhaps to-morrow. You know I've a lot of work on hand. I'm getting on, luck has turned. I've sold several pictures. I must get back.' 'Why, to-morrow?--it was hardly worth while coming for so short a time.' 'I only came to see you. You know I couldn't--you know--I mean that I felt that I must see you.' Mildred looked up, it was an affectionate glance; and she swung her parasol in a way that recalled their walks in the Green Park. They passed out of the _passage_ into the boulevard. As they crossed the Rue Vivienne, Ralph said in his abrupt fragmentary way: 'You said you'd like to see me, I could see from your letters that you were unhappy.' 'No, I'm not unhappy--a little dull at times, that is all.' 'You wrote me some charming letters. I hope you meant all you said.' 'Did I say so much, then? I daresay I said more than I intended.' 'No, don't say that, don't say that.'