"Come in with me," I told him.
"Of course you understand that in some ways she's going to be a good deal of a nuisance," he said hurriedly. "The baby squalling when I've just happened to get into my stride and the mother having to retire to feed the thing. But never mind, she's got quite a stunning face."
I knocked at her door, although I could see her sitting at the window with the baby in her arms.
"Please don't trouble to get up," I said. "My friend Gordon happens to need a model; he's thinking of a picture of a mother and child and has told me that, if you could pose for him, he would be glad to employ you. It wouldn't last very long, but you would have the baby with you. By the way, painters have to think very hard when they're at work and so they can't talk much at the same time, so that models have to keep very still. I know you won't mind that, because it's part of the work."
The top button of her waist was open. Instinctively her hand went up to it and covered the very small expanse of white neck that had been revealed.
"A model!" she exclaimed huskily. "I—I don't know——"
Gordon's face looked as if it was graven in stone.
"It is just for the face and hands," he said coldly. "It will be a picture of a woman sitting at an open window; just as you were when we came in. Of course, if you don't care to——"
"Oh! Indeed, I shall be very glad and—and grateful," she answered, very low. "I will do my best to please you."
"Thanks! I shall be obliged, if you will come on Monday morning at ten."