"Poor old Palamon! Poor old dog!" Odd had lifted the dog in his arms, and was scratching the silky smooth ears as only a dog-lover knows how. Palamon's head slowly turned to one side in an ecstasy of appreciation. Odd looked down at Hilda. Katherine was behind him. "Poor Palamon, 'allone, withouten any companye.'" Hilda's eyes met his in a sad, startled look, then she dropped them to Palamon, who was now putting out his tongue towards Odd's face with grateful emotion. "Yes," she said gently, putting her hand caressingly on the dog's head; her slim, cold fingers just brushed Odd's; "yes, poor Palamon." She was silent, and there was silence behind them, for Katherine, with her usual good-humored tact, was examining the picture. The model on the sofa stretched her arms and yawned a long, scraping yawn. Palamon gave a short, brisk bark, and looked quickly and suspiciously round the studio. Both Odd and Hilda laughed. "But not 'allone,' after all," said Odd. "Is he a great deal with you? That is a different kind of company, but Palamon is the gainer." "We mustn't judge Palamon by our own standards," smiled Hilda, "though highly civilized dogs like him don't show many social instincts towards their own kind. He did miss Arcite though, at first, I am sure; but he certainly is not lonely. I bring him here with me, and when I am at home he is always in my room. I think all the walking he gets is good for him. You see in what good condition he is." Palamon still showing signs of restlessness over the yawn, Odd put him down. He was evidently on cordial terms with the model, for he trotted affably toward her, standing with a lazy, smiling wave of the tail before her, while she addressed him with discreetly low-toned, whispering warmth as "_Mon chou! Mon bijou! Mon petit lapin à la sauce blanche!_" "Don't you get very tired working here all day?" Odd asked. "Sometimes. But anything worth doing makes one tired, doesn't it?" "You take your art very seriously, Hilda?" "Sometimes--yes--I take it seriously." Hilda smiled her slight, reserved smile. "Well, I can't blame you; you really have something to say." "Hilda, I am afraid we are becoming _de trop_. I must carry you off, Mr. Odd. Hilda's moments are golden." "That is a sisterly exaggeration," said Hilda. Had all her personality gone into her pictures? was she a self-centred little egotist? Odd wondered, as he and Katherine walked away together. Katherine's warmly human qualities seemed particularly consoling after the chill of the abstract one felt in Hilda's studio. CHAPTER IV "Peter, she is a nice, a clever, a delightful girl," said Mary Apswith.