"Oh.... Yes, I should like it, I think."
"It's about the only excuse which would enable you to remain at the inn until you have come to some conclusion regarding your future," he explained.
"A painter may always have his models? It is expected, is it not?"
"Oh, yes, that is always understood. But nobody would understand your coming to live at the Golden Peach merely because you and I happened to be good friends," he added laughingly.
"I understand," she said in a grave voice. "I am to be your model, not your friend."
He nodded carelessly, looking away from her. After a moment, he lighted a cigarette. It relieved him considerably to recollect that the Harem had gone to Ausone.
"Now," he said, "if you are ready to walk back to the inn with me, I'll explain you to Madame Arlon, the patronne."
"And my punt?" she inquired, rising from the grass.
"Oh, Lord! I forgot."
"My trunk is in it."