And surely the gods loved Geoffrey Danvers! Not only did he bring to his labours a brain in which the capacity for unwearying endeavour co-existed with ever-active enthusiasm and alert intelligence; more than that--to him had been given an imaginative soul that swam easily and always in a boundless sea of fantasy and dreams. His good right hand followed instincts, obeyed emotions and upwelling thoughts, all unguessed-at and undreamed-of by plodding, heavy-minded Jack Hardy. Thus came forth work pulsating with that power, that appeal, that life, for which Jack yearned, that he struggled for, prayed for--in vain--all in vain. An hour later the two young men sat down to lunch. Jack's opening statement was startling. "I've seen the most beautiful woman alive." "That's a big order. Your 'Belle Dame'? No, you couldn't have kept that great fact to yourself for so long." "I should think not. No, it's that Miss Stornway whom Flinders spoke of. You remember--the 'Diana' of Montford's last year's Academy picture. She's sitting for Towning now. She is lovely--really. She looks as strong and lithe and graceful as the goddess herself. Never worn corsets in her life, I understand. Her face is perfectly exquisite too--pure Greek. Her hair waves back from halfway down her forehead, like that of Venus there." "Dark, is she?" "Almost black hair, big brown eyes, quite a brunette really; but one might think she was fair, she has such a clear complexion, such a smooth, satin-like skin. Go out to Towning's and see her. It's really worth while." "We'll have her to sit here. I can see you are anxious to paint from her." "I must confess I am." "You had better write at once then. Since she is such a paragon of beauty I expect she has a waiting list of engagements." A couple of days later proved Geoffrey to be a true prophet. "We have indeed got to wait our turn, it seems. Miss Stornway can't come until the middle of March," announced Jack, studying the response to his letter. "Ten weeks ahead. Why, that is about when you'll be going away." "That doesn't matter at all. If I have got my 'Death of Orpheus' finished I might make a few studies of her, to use up my last few days here; but she is coming for you, you know." CHAPTER XXVIII GEOFFREY DANVERS The spring morning on which Evarne was to make her first appearance in this new studio dawned fresh and crisp. On the outward journey she purchased a bunch of daffodils, and slipped them between the revers of her warm squirrel coat. A little cap of the same grey fur perched itself jauntily upon her thick hair, beneath which her clear, calm eyes looked forth upon the world with a certain sweet and serene complacency.