So many good things had, during the past few days, swum into Jennie's vision, only to swim out again, that she had grown almost used to this fading of her hopes. Nevertheless, the bliss of loving Hubert and getting twenty-five thousand dollars for it had seemed tolerably sure. To lose it now would be hard; but harder still, for the moment, at least, was this tone of detachment, of indifference. That another woman should, in some ways, do better than herself was worse than the last indignity. Her lip trembled. She was about to turn away with that collapse of the figure which marks the woman who has lost all hope.
He hurried up to her, laying his hand on her arm in a way that made a thrill run through her frame.
"Wait a minute, Jennie! I'd like to talk it over. If you want me to try you out—"
"What does that mean—try me out?"
"Oh, simply that you'd take the pose, so that I could see how nearly you'd come up to what I want."
"And then if I didn't—"
He smiled. "Oh, but you will—at least I think so."
"When would you do it?"
"Oh, right now. As soon as you like. I've got the time."
She looked at him inquiringly, but there was nothing in his eyes to answer the question she was asking.