"If you were an old sea captain now, Miss Blue," he said to Marietta gallantly, "I could make a striking thing out of you." "I'll try to be, if you want to paint me," she replied gaily. "I'd look fine in a big pair of boots and a raincoat, wouldn't I, Eugene?" "You certainly would, if I'm any judge," replied Smite. "Come over to the studio and I'll rig you out. I have all those things on hand." "I will," she replied, laughing. "You just say the word." MacHugh felt as if Smite were stealing a march on him. He wanted to be nice to Marietta, to have her take an interest in him. "Now, looky, Joseph," he protested. "I was going to suggest making a study of Miss Blue myself." "Well, you're too late," replied Smite. "You didn't speak quick enough." Marietta was greatly impressed with this atmosphere in which Angela and Eugene were living. She expected to see something artistic, but nothing so nice as this particular studio. Angela explained to her that Eugene did not own it, but that made small difference in Marietta's estimate of its significance. Eugene had it. His art and social connections brought it about. They were beginning excellently well. If she could have as nice a home when she started on her married career she would be satisfied. They sat down about the round teak table which was one of Dexter's prized possessions, and were served by Angela's borrowed maid. The conversation was light and for the most part pointless, serving only to familiarize these people with each other. Both Angela and Marietta were taken with the two artists because they felt in them a note of homely conservatism. These men spoke easily and naturally of the trials and triumphs of art life, and the difficulty of making a good living, and seemed to be at home with personages of repute in one world and another, its greatest reward. During the dinner Smite narrated experiences in his sea-faring life, and MacHugh of his mountain camping experiences in the West. Marietta described experiences with her beaux in Wisconsin and characteristics of her yokel neighbors at Blackwood, Angela joining in. Finally MacHugh drew a pencil sketch of Marietta followed by a long train of admiring yokels, her eyes turned up in a very shy, deceptive manner. "Now I think that's cruel," she declared, when Eugene laughed heartily. "I never look like that." "That's just the way you look and do," he declared. "You're the broad and flowery path that leadeth to destruction." "Never mind, Babyette," put in Angela, "I'll take your part if no one else will. You're a nice, demure, shrinking girl and you wouldn't look at anyone, would you?" Angela got up and was holding Marietta's head mock sympathetically in her arms. "Say, that's a dandy pet name," called Smite, moved by Marietta's beauty. "Poor Marietta," observed Eugene. "Come over here to me and I'll sympathize with you."