'You're not the first. All the women are crazy about him. He was the lover of Merac, the actress of the _Francais_. They say she could only play Phedre when he was in the stage-box. He always produced that effect upon her. Then he was the lover of the Marquise de la--de la Per----I can't remember the name.' 'Is he in love with any one now?' 'No; we thought he was going to marry Rose.' 'That little thing!' 'Well, he seemed devoted to her. He seemed inclined to settle down.' 'Did he ever flirt with you?' 'No; he's not my style.' 'I know what that means,' thought Mildred. The conversation paused, and then Elsie said: 'It really is a shame to upset him with Rose, unless you mean to marry him. Even the impressionists admit that he has talent. He belongs to the old school, it is true, but his work is interesting all the same.' The English and American girls were dressed like Elsie and Cissy in cheap linen dresses; one of the French artists was living with a cocotte. She was dressed more elaborately; somewhat like Mildred, Elsie remarked, and the girls laughed, and sat down to their bowls of coffee. Morton and Elsie's young man were almost the last to arrive. Swinging their paint-boxes they came forward talking gaily. 'Yours is the best looking,' said Elsie. 'Perhaps you'd like to get him from me.' 'No, I never do that.' 'What about Rose?' Mildred bit her lips, and Elsie couldn't help thinking, 'How cruel she is, she likes to make that poor little thing miserable. It's only vanity, for I don't suppose she cares for Morton.' Those who were painting in the adjoining fields and forest said they would be back to the second breakfast at noon, those who were going further, and whose convenience it did not suit to return, took sandwiches with them. Morton was talking to Rose, but Mildred soon got his attention. 'You're going to paint in the forest,' she said, 'I wonder what your picture is like: you haven't shown it to me.' 'It's all packed up. But aren't you going into the forest? If you're going with Miss Laurence and Miss Clive you might come with me. You'd better take your painting materials; you'll find the time hang heavily, if you don't.' 'Oh no, the very thought of painting bores me.' 'Very well then. If you are ready we might make a start, mine is a mid-day effect. I hope you're a good walker. But you'll never be able to get along in those shoes and that dress--that's no dress for the forest. You've dressed as if for a garden-party.' 'It is only a little _robe a fleurs,_ there's nothing to spoil, and as for my shoes, you'll see I shall get along all right, unless it is very far.' 'It is more than a mile. I shall have to take you down to the local cobbler and get you measured. I never saw such feet.' He was oddly matter of fact. There was something naive and childish about him, and he amused and interested Mildred.