"Will," she said earnestly, laying down her salad-fork and spoon, "I think it is wrong for us to live as we do."
He shrugged his shoulders, looking at her curiously.
"I cannot flatter myself that you care to return to the old uncomfortableness."
She flushed warmly, with a keen pang of mingled pain and indignation.
"No," she replied. "No; never that. It is not for ourselves, but for others."
"Others! Fenton?"
She flushed more deeply still.
"I have told you already that you are mistaken about my regard for
Arthur. It was not he I meant."
She served her guest, and sat playing nervously with her fork as he ate and praised the salad.
"Mr. Herman sent for me the other afternoon," she began again, forcing herself to speak calmly. "My model Ninitta is very fond of him, and chose to be jealous of his praise of my work. It might have all gone over without an outburst, I suppose, if she had not had her attention called to the fact that I had modeled his head for December. Why she had never happened to notice it I don't know; she was in the studio constantly."