Her inarticulate little murmurs, her half-sighs, all her tiny actions had been enchanting, enthralling; but her smile--always sweet and moving--was now provocative of ecstasy. Dazed, unconscious of his own personality, again Geoff knelt before her, his arms clasped around her waist, his face pressed against her soft body. Oblivious to all of life save love alone, he bathed his spirit in this inexhaustible fund of the gods' best gift. What said Evarne's most-admired philosopher? "I say then of all in general, both men and women, that the whole of our race would be happy if we worked out love perfectly, and if each were to meet with his beloved." Was not Diotima, who taught Socrates, a wise woman indeed, capable of imparting the truest, the most divine of all wisdom? Thus the winged hours sped past. A dainty little supper was ready, and finally they sat down side by side and played at eating. Over the little meal the conversation became really quite practical and business-like. Geoffrey had said nothing of the prospect he had of succeeding sooner or later to his childless cousin's earldom. That startling piece of information seemed to him to be best reserved for discussion on some other less idyllic occasion. But it was partly this that gave emphasis to his inquiry. "You will not continue posing now, will you, dearie?" "I have not any choice," laughed Evarne. "There are some people who make me. Let me see, there's the landlord and the tradesmen and----" "Then come here, won't you? Really, I not only want you--I need you. I'm going to start a big picture--any number of figures in it." "What is the subject, and who am I to be?" "I want you for Andromache. I'm going to paint the captured Trojan women." "I shall make a realistic captive, Geoff, being one in very sooth." "And I verily believe I was inspired to paint such a subject by the consciousness that I was free no longer, my captor. I shall make a great thing of this picture, Evarne; at least, I ought to. Everything will be in my favour. Poor old Jack! He is still lamenting his unprocurable model--his 'Belle Dame.'" "How different his work is from yours; poor old Jack!" "I am going to try hard to persuade him to take up portrait-painting definitely. He really is very clever, you know. He ought to do well. Or sculpture; he's quite strong at that. But he will insist on trying to be imaginative, and he doesn't shine there. Now, when is the earliest day you can come?" "It so happens that I finish to-morrow with the man I'm sitting for at present. That's Thursday, the twentieth, isn't it? Then I have nothing to do until Monday the twenty-fourth, when I ought--it's all arranged--you see I didn't expect you home until September!" "A lot of engagements, have you?" "I've only a few spare days here and there for the next seven weeks."