Twinkle ran critical eyes over this unbashful nymph.
"You're all right," she said candidly. "A bit thin. Thinking of posing as an artist's model?"
"Glory! It never occurred to me."
"It's a possible treatment for your complaint, my dear."
"What do you mean?" A deepening of the carnation tint on Muriel's soft cheek.
Twinkle did not appear to notice.
"Enough eyes on your tout ensemble to satisfy even your thirst for admiration. The joy of seeing, say, thirty individuals all occupied in reproducing your beauty for general display in some gallery. After-results ... qui sait? The artist's model...."
"Meets artists," finished Muriel, recovering herself: "I am out after bigger game. I had thought of going into training on your lines."
"The stage is over-stocked with people seeking auditions who have not the slightest talent," warned Miss Ruth Levine, commonly known as Twinkle, probably because it was the most unsuitable nickname that could possibly be found for her. "You might prove a happy exception."
"I'd get a walking-on chorus part, at any time," Muriel confidently assured her, "with nothing to do but kick and use my eyes."