“I am a professional model,” I answered.
“Hm! Yes, I think you will do.”
I was behind the screen. I had taken off all of my clothes, and I was wrapped up in the wrapper which I found to be very dirty. I wondered how many girls had wrapped it about them.
I could hear the students entering the class-room. I peeped out, and already there were about fifteen men of various ages, and there were about thirty easels and stools. More students were coming in. There was one elderly man with white hair, and two young boys, one only about thirteen. He looked like my little brother, Randle. I began to redress. I could never go out before those men and the little boy! Merciful God, no!
Then I remembered my promise to Miss Darling. I thought of my father, who was ill, of Ada’s insistent demands, of my empty pocketbook, and then I thought of the bottle that Miss St. Denis had given to me. I undressed again. I heard a voice saying:
“Where’s the model?”
Then the voice of the monitor called sharply: “Pose! Pose, please!”
I drained that bottle dry. I stepped from behind that screen. I walked up to the platform, and I flung off the wrapper. I heard a voice saying, as from a distance:
“Stand a little to the left.” I obeyed.
“Take some poses,” said the voice. I obeyed.