"Much of you is easy; but you have many facets. When I think I have reached the true Phyllys, I find myself mistaken. One day you are one thing, next day another. My aim is to get to the background." "I wonder how you mean to do it," she laughed. She had recalled him to his purpose. He leant forward, examining her with a penetrative gaze. She met it firmly, determined on resistance. She would be as elusive as she chose. But those blue eyes had power. They differed from Giles' eyes; and they were reaching deep. If this was a trial of strength, she knew that he was gaining the mastery. She could not veil from him what he meant to see. Despite her will-refusal, he was getting into touch with her "inward" self. He was stronger than she. She knew it and resented the fact, yet was oddly glad. [Illustration: A HARSH VOICE BROKE THE PAUSE, "SO—USING PHYLLYS FOR A MODEL."] An abrupt consciousness dawned that this meant more than artistic interest. The indifference, the "apartness" had vanished. Her eyes fell before his. Colin had never seen her thus, though he had for days analysed every line in her face. This was no matter of lines; and though as sculptor, he thought less of colouring than of form, yet the pretty flush, the troubled curve of coral lips, the sweetness of downcast eyes, laid hold upon him. If she was a being of many facets, he was the same, and a facet of hers touched squarely a facet of his that moment. "I have come upon the real Phyllys at last," he was saying; and his joy was only in part artistic. Phyllys said nothing. She knew that he was reading her still; and she could not meet his gaze. A harsh voice broke the pause. "So—using Phyllys for a model! How is that, pray?" Phyllys looked up in amaze. This—Giles? This—her Midfell friend, her rescuer! He went across to shake hands with her, absently, as if the act were mechanical; then stood between them, facing the fireplace, his back to the long room; tall, solid, upright. His hands were clenched, and the blaze of yellow light on his eyes was like that of a wild beast. Wrath transformed the whole face. Its deep red was exchanged for a mottled pallor. Phyllys stiffened into girlish dignity. If Giles felt no pleasure at seeing her, she would show no pleasure at seeing him; and what could make him behave in such an extraordinary way? Colin's first movement had been a start, but he replied in his lowest, most dragging voice— "Yes; I'm making a study of her head. Not a successful one, I'm afraid. You didn't let us know you were coming to-day." Giles turned from the speaker with a passionate movement, towards the bust of Elsye Wallace. Phyllys recalled Colin's not wishing him to know of its existence; and she wondered—had he seen it on his first entrance? But no! This evidently was his first glimpse; and the surprise was not a pleasant one. He stood gazing, his hands still clenched, his face set as in iron. "That was not to have been seen," observed Colin.