“Why do you care what David Watson would say?” asked Edwin, gently swinging the thurible to and fro before his goddess. “He’s busy with his ‘Try a Tin To-day’ pictures. He isn’t thinking about you or anything else that is beautiful.” “Stop swinging that incense thing around. You make me nervous!” Grace replied irrelevantly. “I hate that stuff; it makes me think about when I had whooping-cough. Of course I don’t care about what David thinks, silly! Last night he came up to the house, and he said something that hurt me very much.” She paused interrogatively. Edwin put the extinguished thurible on a teakwood stand, dusted his fingers on a yellow silk handkerchief, and sat down on a cushion at Grace’s feet. “Well, what did he say?” he asked. Grace’s colour had risen, making her more adorable than ever. “Really, Edwin,” she said, “I sometimes think that you are almost too skilful in repressing your emotions. I said he hurt me very much.” Edwin threw his cigarette into the coal-scuttle with a despairing gesture. “My dear Grace,” he said, “what would you have me do? Challenge him to a duel? Of course I’m tremendously sorry; but why do you talk to such an animal as Watson?” Grace looked at him with a rather cynical smile. “You men are pretty much alike, after all,” she said. “What David said that hurt me was just like what you are saying about him. He made fun of you and your painting--of course, that hurt me terribly--and then he actually had the nerve--the impudence to _forbid_ me to come to your studio! Think of it! David Watson, whose only idea of art is a stupid fish holding a tin of dad’s salmon and saying ‘Try a Tin To-day’--that man to tell me what to do and what not to do! I’ll tell you what I did. I forbade him ever to come to my home or to speak to me again! When I came down here this afternoon, I stopped at dad’s office purposely. I know David was watching me when I left, and I said to Leon, ‘Take me to Mr. Marmaduke’s studio in Patchin Place’--loud, so he’d hear me!” Edwin looked almost handsome as he smiled up at her from his cushion. “That’s my brave little comrade!” he said. “And soon we shall be married, sha’n’t we? Remember, you’ll keep your maiden name, and you won’t promise to honour or obey me, or any of that cruel rubbish. Gildell will use that lovely, ‘Polyrhythmic Ritual for a Free Mating,’ and there’ll be just the people we love best present. Arthura will dance, and it will all be wonderful!” Grace gripped the arms of her chair and moistened her lips nervously. “Edwin,” she said, “I haven’t told you yet why I stayed here to-day. I told dad to come here at six o’clock.” “Mr. Mallon coming here at six o’clock!” said Edwin, rising to his feet. “Why, it’s five minutes to six now!” “Yes, he’s coming here right away. And, Edwin--he knows,” said Grace. “You told him?” asked Edwin in unconcealed amazement.