"I think," he interrupted smilingly, "that you might take the pose again if you are rested. Go on talking; I don't mind it."
She sat erect, loosened the white wool robe and dropped it from her with less consciousness and effort than before. Very carefully she set her feet on the blocks, fitting the shapely heels to the chalked outlines; found the mark for her elbow, adjusted her slim, smooth body and looked at him, flushing.
"All right," he said briefly; "go ahead and talk to me."
"Do you wish me to?"
"Yes; I'd rather."
"I don't know exactly what to say."
"Say anything," he returned absently, selecting a flat brush with a very long handle.
She thought a moment, then, lifting her eyes:
"I might ask you your name."
"What? Don't you know it? Oh, Lord! Oh, Vanity! I thought you'd heard of me."