“Undraped?” inquired Esmé.
“A miracle,” nodded Barres absently. “Paint is becoming inadequate. I shall model her this summer. I tell you I have never seen anything to compare to her. Never!”
“What else will you do with her?” drawled Esmé. “You’ll go stale on her some day, of course. Am I next?”
“No!... I don’t know what she’ll do. It begins to look like a responsibility, doesn’t it? She’s such a fine little girl,” explained Barres warmly. “I’ve grown quite fond of her—interested in her. Do you know she has an excellent mind? And nice, fastidious instincts? She thinks straight. That souse of a father of hers ought to be jailed for the way he neglects her.”
“Are you thinking of adopting her?” asked Trenor, with the faintest of sneers, which escaped Barres.
“Adopt a girl? Oh, Lord, no! I can’t do anything like that. Yet—I hate to think of her future, too ... unless somebody looks out for her. But it isn’t possible for me to do anything for her except to give her a good job with a decent man——”
“Meaning yourself,” commented Mandel, acidly.
“Well, I am decent,” retorted Barres warmly, amid general laughter. “You fellows know what chances she might take with some men,” he added, laughing at his own warm retort.
Esmé and Corot Mandel nodded piously, each perfectly aware of what chance any attractive girl would run with his predatory neighbour.