The girl stretched herself in a lazy panther-like fashion, and taking a faded purple dressing-gown from the model stand flung it round herself.
“Studio number seven’s let,” said Dan.
“Well, why shouldn’t it be?” said Barnabas imperturbably. “It’s been vacant six months. It’s a pleasant studio; large, well-ventilated, drains in perfect condition, an ideal——”
“Oh, shut up, Barnabas,” said Dan. “It’s let to an old woman.”
“What?”
“An old woman,” repeated Dan bitterly.
For a moment Barnabas looked utterly taken aback. Then he shook his head.
“Bad news indeed, my child. For the last five years at least we’ve been a pleasant little coterie of seven undeniable geniuses all of the male sex. Then Ashton left us. Why on earth didn’t your friend Shottover take the place? I thought you said he was going to.”
“So I thought,” replied Dan gloomily. “He’s such a vacillating ass. I told him he’d lose it if he didn’t hurry and make up his mind. Now he has lost it, and we’ve an old woman coming to plant herself among us. It isn’t that I dislike women——”
Barnabas grinned suddenly.