She saw a face and hair growing lovely under her eyes, bathed in an iris-tinted light; saw little exquisite flecks of colour set here and there on the white expanse; watched all so intently, so wonderingly, that the numbness of her body became a throbbing pain before she was aware that she was enduring torture. She strove to move, gave a little gasp; and he was down from his ladder and up on hers before her half-paralysed body had swayed to the edge of danger. "Why didn't you say so?" he asked, sharply. "I can't keep track of time when I'm working!" With arms and fingers that scarcely obeyed her she contrived to gather the white wool covering around her shoulders and limbs and lay back. "You know," he said, "that it's foolish to act this way. I don't want to kill you, Miss West." She only lowered her head amid its lovely crown of hair. "You know your own limits," he said, resentfully. He looked down at the big clock: "It's a full hour. You had only to speak. Why didn't you?" "I--I didn't know what to say." "Didn't know!" He paused, astonished. Then: "Well, you felt yourself getting numb, didn't you?" "Y-yes. But I thought it was--to be expected"--she blushed vividly under his astonished gaze: "I think I had better tell you that--that this is--the first time." "The first time!" "Yes.... I ought to have told you. I was afraid you might not want me." "Lord above!" he breathed. "You poor--poor little thing!" She began to cry silently; he saw the drops fall shining on the white wool robe, and leaned one elbow on the ladder, watching them. After a while they ceased, but she still held her head low, and her face was bent in the warm shadow of her hair. "How could I understand?" he asked very gently. "I--should have told you. I was afraid." He said: "I'm terribly sorry. It must have been perfect torture for you to undress--to come into the studio. If you'd only given me an idea of how matters stood I could have made it a little easier. I'm afraid I was brusque--taking it for granted that you were a model and knew your business.... I'm terribly sorry." She lifted her head, looked at him, with the tears still clinging to her lashes. "You have been very nice to me. It is all my own fault." He smiled. "Then it's all right, now that we understand. Isn't it?" "Yes." "You make a stunning model," he said frankly. "Do I? Then you will let me come again?" "_Let_ you!" He laughed; "I'll be more likely to beg you." "Oh, you won't have to," she said; "I'll come as long as you want me." "That is simply angelic of you. Tell me, do you wish to descend to terra firma?" She glanced below, doubtfully: "N-no, thank you. If I could only stretch my--legs--" "Stretch away," he said, much amused, "but don't tumble off and break into pieces. I like you better as you are than as an antique and limbless Venus."