"I'm sure they could not," he answered. "But, you see, it's a portrait of you; and I thought you might not care for the--ah--" he finished with a smile--"shall I say fame?"
"Oh! I did not think that you would tell any one that I had anything to do with it. Is it necessary that my name should be mentioned?"
"Not exactly necessary"--he admitted--"but few women, these days, would miss the opportunity."
She shook her head, with a positive air. "No, no; you must exhibit it as a picture; not as a portrait of me. The portrait part is of no importance. It is what you have made your picture say, that will do good."
"And what have I made it say?" he asked, curiously pleased.
"Why it says that--that a woman should be beautiful as the roses are beautiful--without thinking too much about it, you know--just as a man should be strong without thinking too much about his strength, I mean."
"Yes," he agreed, "it says that. But I want you to know that, whatever title it is exhibited under, it will always be, to me, a portrait--the truest I have ever painted."
She flushed with genuine pleasure as she said brightly, "I like you for that. And now let's try it on Conrad Lagrange and Myra Willard. You get him, and I'll run and bring her. Mind you don't let Mr. Lagrange in until I get back! I want to watch him when he first sees it."
When the artist found Conrad Lagrange and told him that the picture was finished, the novelist, without comment, turned his attention to Czar.
The painter, with an amused smile, asked, "Won't you come for a look at it, old man?"