“How absurd you are!” she said, almost with confusion, and looking away from him. “I only wondered whether you had a model with you.” “I know, I know!” After a rather long pause she said: “What are we waiting here for?” “Oh--just to rest!” “But I’m not tired.” “I didn’t suppose you were.” Again there was a pause, in which Miss Van Tuyn felt a tingling of impatient irritation. “I suppose you are doing this merely to whet my appetite,” she said presently, unable to bear the unnatural silence. “Of course I know you have finished the picture at last. You have asked me to come here to see it. Then why on earth not let me see it? All this waiting can’t come from timidity. I know you don’t care for opinion so long as your own is satisfied.” He sent her an odd look that was almost boyish in its half mischievous, half wistful roguishness. “My girl, you speak about a painter with great assurance, and, let me add, with great ignorance. I’ll tell you the plain truth for once. I’ve been keeping you down here out of sheer diffidence. Now then!” “Dick!” His lean blue cheeks slightly reddened as he looked at her. She knew he had spoken the truth, and was touched. She got up quickly, went to him, and put one hand on his shoulder. “You are afraid of me! But no--I can’t believe it!” “Ha!” He got up. “It is finished?” “Yes, at last it’s done.” “Has--have you shown--I suppose he has seen it?” Garstin shook his head, and a dark lock of hair fell over his forehead. “He doesn’t even know it is finished, the ruffian! He’s given me a damned lot of trouble. I’ll keep him on the gridiron a bit longer. Grilling will do him good.” “Then I am the first?” “Yes, you are the first.” “Thank you, Dick,” she said soberly. “May I go up now?” “Yes, come on!” He went before her and mounted the stairs, taking long strides. She followed him eagerly, yet with a feeling of apprehension. What would it be--this portrait finished at last? Dick Garstin was cruelly fond of revelation. She thought of his judge who ought to be judged, of other pictures of his. Had he caught and revealed the secret of Arabian? “Now then!” But Garstin still hesitated. “Sit here!” She obeyed, and sat down on a sofa with the window behind her. “I’ll have a smoke.” “Oh!” He went to the Spanish cabinet, and stood with his back to her, apparently searching. He lifted things, put them back. She glowed with almost furious impatience. At last he found the cigars. Probably he had never had to seek for them. He lit up. “Now then--a drink!” “Oh, Dick!” she breathed. But she made no other protest. “Will you?” “No!” she said sharply. Then she gazed at him and said: “Yes.” He poured out whisky for her and himself, added some soda water, and lifted his glass. “To Arabian!” he said. “Why should we drink to Mr. Arabian?” “He has done me a good turn.”