"But we are living fully, goodness knows," he interrupted. "This last week we have had to exert our wits and bodies in more ways than we ever did before in all our lives. True, I do miss my modeling somewhat." He spoke the last with a soft mellowness in his voice and a wistfulness that made her look at him quickly.
"Modeling?" she asked.
He nodded slowly.
"What sort of modeling?" she insisted.
"Oh, probably poor, for the most part. I did some work that was beginning to make its way, though."
"You mean sculpture?"
He nodded again.
She looked at him earnestly. Here was a new revelation. She had wondered at this man's apparent keen sense of form, and his imaginative power when he spoke of color or mentioned line, and she had been sure from his occasional word that he was a wide student of literature.
"What did you do at home?" she asked abruptly.
"Oh, played with living," he said indifferently.