"Nonsense! She is a schemer and an actress. I did not suppose she wanted to marry you, but since that is her idea I can see right through her. This being the case, and your determination to marry the other fixed, the sooner you do it and get away, the better." "I am afraid you are right, Harry; there seems to be no other course. I haven't the moral courage to tell her the truth." "No need of it, whatever. It wouldn't help matters in the least. Just marry and go away quietly, and don't return until you get ready. If you need money draw on me at sight." "Thank you, Harry. I expect Eva soon. I am going to put the final touches on her picture, and I will urge my suit. If she accepts me I will take her away at once. Evelin's picture is ready for framing; I will send it to the dealer's to-morrow. I wish to God I could get away before she comes again!" "Why not? You have nothing to keep you. If the girl really loves you she will marry you out of hand, and be only too glad to cut loose from all unpleasant associations. And now let's take a last look at the pictures," he said. They had been walking slowly in the direction of Goetze's cottage. They entered now, and the artist lighted the gas. Then he arranged the portraits of the two women as he had done for his friend's inspection nearly a half-year previous. Both were thinking of that evening now. How long ago it seemed. Harry sat silent before them for a long time. "They are wonderful portraits, Goetze," he said, at length; "but, do you know, it doesn't seem to me that they have quite the artistic value of the first sketches." "You are right, Harry; they are too minute. I shall destroy some of that to-morrow." The other was silent. After a long pause he said, thoughtfully, "There _is_ something-- I can't tell where it is, either; but it is certainly there." "You refer to the resemblance?" "Yes; it is hardly that, however." "I have thought very little about it lately. It troubled me terribly for a while." "Well, good-night, Julian," said Lawton, rising. "If there are to be any orange-blossoms, I suppose I am best man." "Yes, Harry. Good-night!" Two days later, when Eva Delorme came to the studio, the artist thought he had never seen her so beautiful. And now the whiteness of his own soul was turned to view. He resembled as little the man who had trembled before Evelin March, as Evelin March was like this beautiful being before him. With all the ardor and fervid eloquence of his nature he urged his suit; and she, tearful and trembling before him, half consented. He caught her to his breast and covered her face with kisses.