From his ladder he pointed with his brush to the preliminary sketch that faced her, touching figure after figure: "I'm going to draw them in, now," he said; "first this one. Can you catch the pose? It's going to be hard; I'll block up your heels, later; that's it! Stand up straight, stretch as though the next moment you were going to rise on tiptoe and float upward without an effort--" He was working like lightning in long, beautiful, clean outline strokes, brushed here and there with shadow shapes and masses. And time flew at first, then went slowly, more slowly, until it dragged at her delicate body and set every nerve aching. "I--may I rest a moment?" "Sure thing!" he said, cordially, laying aside palette and brushes. "Come on, Miss West, and we'll have luncheon." She hastily swathed herself in the wool robe. "Do you mean--here?" "Yes. There's a dumb-waiter. I'll ring for the card." "I'd like to," she said, "but do you think I had better?" "Why not?" "You mean--take lunch with you?" "Why not?" "Is it customary?" "No, it isn't." "Then I think I will go out to lunch somewhere--" "I'm not going to let you get away," he said, laughing. "You're too good to be real; I'm worried half to death for fear that you'll vanish in a golden cloud, or something equally futile and inconsiderate. No, I want you to stay. You don't mind, do you?" He was aiding her to descend from her eyrie, her little white hand balanced on his arm. When she set foot on the floor she looked up at him gravely: "You wouldn't let me do anything that I ought not to, would you, Mr. Kelly--I mean Mr. Neville?" she added in confusion. "No. Anyway I don't know what you ought or ought not to do. Luncheon is a simple matter of routine. It's sole significance is two empty stomachs. I suppose if you go out you _will_ come back, but--I'd rather you'd remain." "Why?" "Well," he admitted with a laugh, "it's probably because I like to hear myself talk to you. Besides, I've always the hope that you'll suddenly become conversational, and that's a possibility exciting enough to give anybody an appetite." "But I _have_ conversed with you," she said. "Only a little. What you said acted like a cocktail to inspire me for a desire for more." "I am afraid that you were not named Kelly in vain." "You mean blarney? No, it's merely frankness. Let me get you some bath-slippers--" "Oh--but if I am to lunch here--I can't do it this way!" she exclaimed in flushed consternation. "Indeed you must learn to do that without embarrassment, Miss West. Tie up your robe at the throat, tuck up your sleeves, slip your feet into a nice pair of brand-new bath-slippers, and I'll ring for luncheon."