Fox laughed. “Guilty!” he exclaimed with perfect good humor; “down Sandy!” he added sharply to his collie; “you’ve bewitched the dog, Miss Temple; he rarely makes friends with strangers.” “Then I appreciate all the more his advances,” she replied smiling, “a dog always knows a friend.” “And an honest man,” said Fox; “I’m free to confess that I don’t trust one who dislikes dogs.” “Every man has his crank,” remarked Allestree, walking to and fro before his easel, “and if you begin on dogs with William there’s no end.” Rose laughed, glancing from Allestree’s slightly vexed countenance to the serenity on the brow of his cousin, who had seated himself on the edge of an elaborate brass-bound chest which was one of the studio properties. “I can sympathize, Mr. Fox,” she said; “we’ve always had dogs.” Fox gave her one of his brilliant inscrutable looks. “I entirely agree with Lamartine, Miss Temple,” he replied; “when a man is unhappy God gives him a dog.” “Good Lord, Billy, are you making a bid for our sympathy?” exclaimed Allestree with exasperation. Both Fox and Rose laughed merrily. “He’s only quoting the modern classics,” she replied gayly. “What I should like to know is how he gets out of school in the middle of the day,” said Allestree dryly; “for a man who is supposed to be a leader, he manages to desert at the most remarkable moments. One of the party whips told me the other day that Fox was as hard to trail as a comet.” “Nothing of the sort,” replied Fox, with indolent amusement; “we adjourned over, last night, until Monday, and I came around here as usual to sit for my portrait.” Allestree bit his lip, conscious that his irritability was thrown into sharp relief by his cousin’s imperturbable good humor, and resenting, with a sting of premonition, the effect of Fox’s pose upon Rose Temple. He was not a dull man and could not close his eyes to the fact that she had apparently come to life, been revivified and animated by Fox’s entrance, and he knew well enough the interest that the touch of romance in his past history added to his cousin’s brilliant personality. However, it was useless to sulk at the inevitable misfortune which had destroyed his hour with Rose, and he turned his attention to hospitality. “Will you make tea for us, Rose, if I set the kettle boiling?” he asked, as he drew forward the table, “I’ve got some cakes in the cupboard and a few sandwiches.” “Why, of course; it will be delightful,” she assented readily, rising from her chair to help him find the tea caddy. “I’m eternally indebted, Mr. Fox; he’s going to let me off a half-hour’s posing,” she added, smiling over her shoulder at him.