It was about eleven o'clock; Marie, wishing to be fresh for her posing in the morning, reminded him with frank regret that she ought to go.
"I wouldn't care," she said, "except that since I've left the Follies I have to depend on what I earn at Miss Davis's studio. So you don't mind, do you, Mr. Cleland?"
"No, of course not. It's been fine, hasn't it?"
"Yes. I've had such a good time!—and you are the nicest of men——"
Her voice halted; Cleland, watching her with smiling eyes, saw a sudden alteration of her pretty features. Then he turned to follow her fixed gaze.
"Hello," he said, "there's Harry Belter. Are you looking at him?"
Her face had grown very sober; she withdrew her gaze with a little shrug of indifference, now.
"Yes, I was looking at him," she said quietly.
"I didn't know you knew him."
"Didn't you? ... Yes, I used to know him."