As Martha came into the room, Sonia, who was one of the quiet group around the model--a thin child who twitched and wriggled and could not keep still for two consecutive minutes--waved her a welcome with a little flourish of her brush, and gave her a bright, decided nod. It was too late for Martha to get a position near her, so talk was impossible until the midday recess; but that gesture, glance, and bow of the head were enough of themselves to put new spirit into the girl, and she found her place, and fell to work, going ahead with more vim than she had been able to command for a long time. When rest-time came the two friends showed their canvases to each other, and both of them could see the improvement in their work. Feeling much encouraged, they went off to the butcher’s shop, selected their chops, and while waiting for them to be cooked, sat at their little table in the _crémerie_, and talked. At first they spoke only of their atelier work and Etienne’s criticisms and suggestions; but when that was pretty much talked out for the moment, Sonia, with a sudden change of manner, said abruptly: “I want to atone to you for the gruesome mood that I was in when I went to see you yesterday. If you’ll invite me again, I will be different--and, oh, by the way, I’ve got over that foolish idea that I had about not meeting your brother. If it would give you any pleasure, I don’t in the least object. It would certainly be very silly to let him spoil this beautiful chance of our being together, as it would if I refused to meet him.” Martha looked at her in surprise. She had so entirely made up her mind that the powers had decreed that these two beings should not meet that Sonia’s words rather disconcerted her. “Oh, are you not pleased?” said the latter, disappointedly. “I thought it would delight you.” “So it does,” said Martha, quickly; “but, to be perfectly frank, I had so entirely accepted the idea that there might be some unknown danger in a meeting between you two that I had given it up; and now that the likelihood of it comes again, some sense of danger comes with it. You both seem such tremendous forces--in my eyes, at least,--that it is not like any ordinary acquaintanceship. It is very foolish, though; for even two locomotives may rush toward each other without danger, if each is solid on its own track, leading to its different destination. And surely no harm is done when they come very close, and exchange signals of friendliness, and then part, and go their opposite ways.” “Perfectly sage and true! Most wisely spoken!” said Sonia. “So you are reconciled now, are you? What weathercocks we women are! I am sure I may say it of you as well as of myself, contrasting your former eagerness with your present reluctance for this meeting. Well, I suppose it’s a part of our nature, and I don’t know that men are so very different.” “Harold is different,” said Martha.