"Hexcuse me if I'm rather sharp, but it is 'ard to 'ave bin famous once and to find yer 'ard-earned fame all gorn. Why, I can remember the time when any hartist gentlemen as wanted to bring Venus or any other of them 'eathen young women into a picture, didn't feel 'e'd done all he could to 'elp 'imself until 'e'd got me to pose for 'im. That's a fact, sir! I'd a lovely figger when I was a gal. None o' the young women now, only exceptin' Evarne, comes up to what models was in my young days, and I--well, my gosh! I've 'ad a long string o' great painters waitin' their turn till I was disengaged and could oblige." "It must have been both pleasant and profitable to be in such demand." Mrs. Harbert looked down with becoming modesty, and smoothed her apron as she replied-- "Well, sir, it was, but I never let myself get huppish about it. I was only as the Lord chose to make me. I used to say sometimes, 'Beauty is as beauty does,' and 'Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower; lost, faded'--I forget the rest--'within the hour'--Shakespeare. I've sat for Lord Leighton and Millais and Watts and 'eaps of others." "Then you have posed for some quite well-known pictures, I suppose?" "My gosh! a picture painted in those days, when Hart was properly understood, 'adn't much chance of bein' thought 'ighly of if the hartist 'adn't taken care to git me to collaborate with 'im." "Now, that's a really original idea of yours, Mrs. Harbert--that a painter and his model collaborate. Did you tell it to the men you sat for, and what did they say?" "Well, sir, truth is, I doubt if any of the hartists that I've 'elped to gain positions they'd never 'ave got to without me, would be willin' to acknowledge it. But there, that's only the way o' the world. Shakespeare 'e wrote a song about hingratitude, as I dare say you've 'eard sung." "Isn't it very interesting to be able to look back on the famous pictures you've posed for?" inquired Geoff, with another fleeting glance out of the window. "It is that! Why, I was that proud the first time I was in a picture that was the 'it of the season. I was 'Harry--Harry--hadney.'" "Whom?" "Ain't yer never 'eard of 'er, pore gal? She's bin deserted on a island by some skulkin' brute, so she knelt down with next to nothin' on, and 'eld out both 'er 'ands to the sea. It was like this." Rendered enthusiastic by her reminiscences, Philia sank down on the carpet, leant forward, flung back her head and imploringly extended both her hands. The effect had probably been charming when the model was youthful and fair, but now it put a severe demand on Geoff's good manners not to smile at the old dame.