"I did come—the other day—but—"
"Why didn't you stay? I thought you would. Brasshead wouldn't have minded it, and you could have seen how the thing is done."
"What's the good of seeing how it's done when—when you've got some one else?"
"But, good Lord! Jennie, this is not the only picture of the kind I shall ever paint! Even if I go on using Emma for this, I shall want you for another one—and I'm not sure that I shall go on using Emma. Do you see?"
She was so perturbed that she launched on a question without knowing what she meant to ask.
"Isn't she—"
"Oh, she's all right as far as the figure goes. Features coarse. Not a bit what I'm trying to get. Have to keep toning down and modifying to give her the spiritual look that you've got, Jennie, to throw away. I keep thinking of you all the time I'm doing it. Look here, if you'll come to-morrow, I'll pay Brasshead off and you shall have the job."
By the time they reached Palisade Walk the business was settled on a business basis. Not once did he depart from the professional side of the affair, and not once did she allude to the scene in her dressing-room. But what was understood was understood, not less certainly for its being by passionate mental vibration, without a word, or a glance, or a pressure of the hand.
But the next day, as Jennie was leaving the house to keep her appointment, Josiah, who had gone out as usual to look for work, had dragged himself home and fainted at the door.
"I'm all in," he mumbled, on his return to consciousness. "I don't suppose I shall ever get a chance to do a day's work again."