“Oh, of course I’m pleased to work in such charming company,” said he politely. His face took on the expression that always made her uneasy as he added: “Still, I never lose sight of my career.” “No danger of that,” declared she, with a conviction of tone which she could have found it in her heart to wish insincere. “I never saw anyone so persistent and so--so hard.” He laughed at the absurdity of her calling him hard. What would she think if she knew what a relentless taskmaster he usually was! “How much longer do you think you’ll need me?” asked she. “Not many days. Three or four, perhaps.” It was her turn to drop into depressed abstraction. She roused herself to say, “Won’t you use me in another picture?” He frowned--it was nearly a scowl. “No, indeed,” said he. “I’ve--that is, I’ve imposed on you enough.” “You sounded as if you were going to say _I_ had imposed on _you_ enough,” she reproached, with an air of aggrieved suspicion that was perhaps a trifle overdone. “What are you laughing at?” “I?” cried she with the utmost innocence. “I feel like anything but laughing.” He subsided. “Well, if you weren’t laughing you ought to have been.” She rather disappointed him by refusing to take the bait. Instead of asking why, she returned to her original point. “Don’t you think pictures with figures in them--especially women--are more interesting than just grass and leaves and things?” “Undoubtedly.” “Then you’ve got to have _some_ model. Why not me? Haven’t I been giving satisfaction?” “Indeed, you have. But I’ll get a model who isn’t so interesting to talk with--one who doesn’t demand such high pay. Time is the most valuable thing in the world.” “Not mine. It’s dirt cheap.” She sighed. “I don’t know what I’ll do with myself when you get through with me,” she said dolefully. “I’ve always been restless before. I see now I was right in thinking it was because I didn’t have something to do--something useful.” The subject dropped. While he was as inexpert as the next strongly masculine man in the ways of women, he had intuitions that more than replaced analysis. And there was something in her increasing tendency to reverie that made him uneasy--that made him wonder whether this idle child were not plotting some new device for stealing more of his time from his career. “She’ll get left, if she is,” he said to himself. But he continued to have qualms of nervousness. She was crafty, this innocent maiden; she was always taking him by surprise.