Elise looked serious and shook her head.
“I do feel so much better without them. I won’t wear them again.”
“No, you have a pretty, slender figure, and you don’t want them. That’s why I always get you when I can. I hate to draw or paint from a girl whose hips are all discolored with ugly red creases from her confounded corset.”
The girl glanced contentedly at her supple, clean-limbed figure, and then, with a laugh, jumped upon the model stand.
“It’s not time,” said Gethryn, “you have five minutes yet.”
“Go on, all the same.” And soon the rattle of the brushes alone broke the silence.
At last Gethryn rose and backed off with a sigh.
“How’s that, Elise?” he called.
She sprang down and stood looking over his shoulder.
“Now I’m like myself!” she cried, frankly; “it’s delicious! But hurry and block in the legs, why don’t you?”