She was as motionless as the grey study. He might himself have made and carved "the woman in her entirety," for she stood motionless before him. "Tell Cedersholm," he said bitterly, "tell him that a poor sculptor, a struggler who lives to climb beyond him, who will some day climb beyond him, loves you." The arrogance and pride of his words and her immobility affected him more than a reproof or even speech. He took her in his arms, and she was neither marble nor clay, but a woman there. "Tell him," he murmured close to her cheek, "that I have kissed you and held you." And here she said; "Hush!" almost inaudibly, and released herself. She was trembling. She put her hands to her eyes. "I shall tell him nothing. He is nothing to me. I sent him away when he first came, a fortnight ago. I shall never see Cedersholm again." "What!" cried Tony, looking at her in rapture, "what, you are _free_?" At his heart there was triumph, excitement, wonder, all blending with the bigger emotion. He heard himself ask her eagerly: "Why, why did you do this?" There were tears on her eyelids. His face flushing, his eyes illumined, he looked down on her and lifted her face to him in both his hands. "Why?" "I think you know," she murmured, her lips trembling. He gave a cry, and as he was about again to embrace her they heard Dearborn's step upon the stairs. * * * * * Mrs. Faversham was in the window looking out upon Paris, and Fairfax was modelling on his study when the playwright came in with a can of milk, some madeleines and a pot of jam. After she had gone he wanted to escape and be alone, but Dearborn chatted, pacing the studio, whilst Fairfax dressed and shaved, praising the visitor. "She's a great lady, Tony. What breeding and race! And she's not what the books call 'indifferent' to you." "Go to the devil, Dearborn!" Dearborn went to work instead, not to lose the inspiration of the lovely woman. He began a new scene, and dressed his character in dove grey with silver fox at her throat. CHAPTER XVI Fairfax, at the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, found instead of the entrance he had expected, a note for him. "I cannot see you to-night. Be generous,--understand me. Mr. Cedersholm leaves for Russia to-morrow, he has asked me as a last favour to let him see me. I have done him so much wrong that I cannot refuse him. Come early to-morrow morning, and we will walk in the Bois together. I am yours, "MARY."