“All right, my little foolish virgin, have it your own way. When you're lonely, run up to my studio to see me. I won't ask you to pose or meet any of the dangerous men of my circle. We'll lock the doors and have a snug time all by ourselves.”
“I'll remember.”
The clock in the Metropolitan Tower chimed the hour of five, and Jane Anderson rose with a quick, business-like movement.
“Don't hurry,” Mary protested. “I know I've been stubborn, but I've been so happy in your coming. I do get lonely—frightfully lonely, sometimes—don't think I'm ungrateful——”
“You're dangerously beautiful, child,” the artist said, with enthusiasm. “And remember that I love you—no matter how silly you are—good-by.”
“You won't stay for a cup of tea? I meant to ask you an hour ago.”
“No, I've an engagement with a dreadful man whom I've no idea of ever marrying. I'm going to dinner with him—just to study the animal at dose range.”
With a jolly laugh and quick, firm step she was gone.
Mary snatched the kitten from his snug bed between the pillows of the window-seat and pressed his fuzzy head under her chin.
“She tempted us terribly, Kitty darling, but we didn't let her find out—did we? You know deep down in your cat's soul that I was just dying to meet the distinguished Gordon—but such high honors are not for home bodies like you and me——”