"Jenny!" he called desperately over the banisters. "Jenny! Don't go like that. Darling, don't; I can't bear it." Then he ran to catch her by the arm.
"Kiss me good-bye and be friends. Do, Jenny. Jenny. Do! Please! I can't bear to see your practice dress lying there on the floor."
Sentiment had its way this time, and Jenny began to cry.
"Oh, Maurice," she wept, "why are you so unkind to me? I hate myself for spoiling you so, but I must. I don't care about anything excepting you. I do love you, Maurice."
In the dusty passage they were friends again.
"And now my eyes is all red," she lamented.
"Never mind, darling girl. Come back while I get some things together, and see me off at Waterloo, will you?"
She assented, as enlaced they went up again to the studio.
"It's all the fault of that rotten statue," he explained. "I was furious with myself and vented it on you. Never mind. I'll begin again when I come back. Look, we'll put the tarlatan away in the drawer I take my things out of. Shall we?"
Soon they were driving in a hansom cab towards the railway station.