One rainy April afternoon when Adelle arrived at the studio she found it empty except for the presence of Archie Davis, who was dozing on the divan in front of the small stove. Adelle had come briskly up the stairs from her car, and the ride through the damp air had given her pale cheeks some color. She threw back her long coat, revealing a rose-colored bodice that made her quite pretty. Then the two discovered themselves alone in the big studio. Adelle had a faint consciousness of the fact, but supposing that Miss Baxter would return, she tossed aside her wrap and with a mere "Hello, Archie!" went over to the corner where on a small bench she was wont to pound and chisel and twist. "Say, but you look good enough to eat!" the youth remarked appreciatively. Adelle laughed at the compliment. "Why are you always thinking of eating?" she asked. "I guess because a good meal don't often come my way," he yawned in reply. Adelle wanted to find out why this was so, but could not frame her question to her satisfaction. Archie happened to be in one of those rare moments of melancholy introspection when he doubted even his divine calling to art. He was really hungry and somewhat cold, and life did not seem inviting. "I don't know," he observed after a time, "as this art game is all it looks to be from a distance--that is," he added, watching Adelle with appreciative eyes, "unless you happen to have the dough to support it on the side." "Aren't you painting?" Adelle asked after another pause. "Nope!" "Why not?" "I can't paint when I'm feeling bad." "What's the matter?..." According to the novelists love-making--"the approach of the sexes"--is an affair of infinite precision and fine intention; but according to nature, at least in those less self-conscious circles wherein are found the vast majority, it is one of the casual and apparently aimless forms of human contact. For a good hour these two played the ancient game, but the movements, the articulate ones, at least, were of the last degree of banality and insignificance--too trivial to recite even here. That consciousness of being alone with a young man, which had come over Adelle on her entrance, developed gradually into a pleasant sense of intimacy with Archie. Miss Baxter did not come back to make the tea, as she usually did at this hour. Adelle was acutely aware that the young man had counted on getting this tea and really needed the nourishment. She wanted to give him food, to be kind to him. At last she ventured to suggest,--"Don't you know some place around here where we could get something to eat? I guess Miss Baxter isn't coming back this afternoon."