Mary shook her head. “No, I'm the younger of two. But I've always loved children more than anything in the world.” She blushed, and Farraday, watching her, realized for the first time what a certain heightened radiance in her face betokened. He smiled very sweetly at her. She in her turn saw that he knew, and was glad. His manner seemed to enfold her in a mantle of comfort and understanding. As they finished their tea, Stefan arrived. He entered gaily, greeted Farraday, and fell upon the tea, consuming two cups and several slices of bread and butter with the rapid concentration he gave to all his acts. That finished, he leaped up and made for the easel. “Now, Farraday,” he cried, “you are going to see one of the finest modern paintings in the world. Why should I be modest about it? I'm not. It's a masterpiece--Mary's and mine!” Mary wished he had not included her. Though determined to overcome the feeling, she still shrank from having the picture shown in her presence. Farraday placed himself in position, and Stefan threw back the cloth, watching the other's face with eagerness. The effect surpassed his expectation. The editor flushed, then gradually became quite pale. After a minute he turned rather abruptly from the canvas and faced Stefan. “You are right, Mr. Byrd,” he said, in an obviously controlled voice, “it _is_ a masterpiece. It will make your name and probably your fortune. It is one of the most magnificent modern paintings I have ever seen.” Mary beamed. “Your praise honors me,” said Stefan, genuinely delighted. “I'm sorry I have to run away now,” Farraday continued almost hurriedly. “You know what a busy man I am.” He shook hands with Stefan. “A thousand congratulations,” he said. “Good-bye, Mrs. Byrd; I enjoyed my cup of tea with you immensely.” The hand he offered her was cold; he hardly looked up. “You will let me have some more stories, won't you? I shall count on them. Good-bye again--my warmest congratulations to you both,” and he took his departure with a suddenness only saved from precipitation by the deliberate poise of his whole personality. “I'm sorry he had to go so soon,” said Mary, a little blankly. “What got into the man?” Stefan wondered, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “He was leisurely enough till he had seen the picture. I tell you what!” he exclaimed. “Did you notice his expression when he looked at it? I believe the chap is in love with you!” He turned his most impish and mischievous face to her. Mary blushed with annoyance. “How perfectly ridiculous, Stefan! Please don't say such things.” “But he is!” He danced about the room, hugely entertained by his idea. “Don't you see, that is why he is so eager about your verses, and why he was so bouleversé by the Danaë! Poor chap, I feel quite sorry for him. You must be nice to him.”