St. John heaved a sigh which seemed to proceed from the bottom of his boots. He was too genuinely despondent to resent her slighting criticism of his abilities, or too well aware of its truth perhaps. He rose impatiently, and walked restlessly up and down trying to think. Jill watched him, her own brows knit in a hopeless attempt to solve the difficulty. "This is a pretty kettle of fish," he exclaimed swinging round so suddenly that he nearly upset the model. "I'm hanged if I see what we are to do." "My dear boy," remonstrated Jill in tones of apprehension, "do mind the lay figure. I am trying to finish this canvas with its sole aid," pointing to the work that she had been engaged upon at his entry--a female figure recumbent on a night rainbow. "I can't possibly employ a model, unless perhaps for a final sitting when I know that I shall see so many mistakes it will be a case of repainting it." Then St. John had a happy inspiration. "Wouldn't I do?" he asked in all good faith. "I'm bigger, of course; but I'd be better than a lay figure, and I don't mind posing for you a bit." Jill broke into a laugh, the first laugh of thorough enjoyment that she had had for days. "Ye gods!" she cried, "what next I wonder?" Then she got up and put her two arms about his neck. "Dear old boy," she said gratefully, "I believe you'd stand on your head if I wanted you to. But no, dear, I won't pose you as `The Shepherd's Delight,' I'm sore afraid you wouldn't do at all." Well the end of it all was that Jill absolutely refused to marry St. John on the understanding that they should pick up a precarious livelihood by their combined artistic efforts, though she was quite willing that he should speak to his father again on the subject if he deemed it of any use. She also thought that Miss Bolton should be apprised of what had taken place, and for the rest things would go on just as usual, only he would attend the Art School again, and, as he himself stipulated, pop in as often as he chose. Then Jill went and put her hat on at his request, and they strolled out to lunch somewhere, and afterwards spent the rest of the day as they liked, which wasn't among pictures as one would have imagined from two such lovers of art. In the first place St. John drove to a jewellers and placed a handsome solitaire ring on the third finger of Jill's left hand, then they attended a matinee at one of the theatres, and in the evening he took her to Frascatti's to dinner. There were several men there whom he knew and saluted in passing. They bowed back and stared hard at the dowdy little girl he escorted, wondering where he had unearthed her, and why? That night Jill tasted champagne for the first time, and its effect upon her spirits was decidedly exhilarating. She liked champagne, she said, and St. John laughed at the naivete of both manner and remark. When he asked her where she would like to finish up the evening she suggested a