Bare painted walls, a peaked roof with a window reaching far overhead, a polished floor, one or two chairs and a divan, the few necessary implements of his profession, and many canvases faced to the wall, but little or no bric-à-brac or delightful studio properties. The Painter was also conscious that her inspection included him personally, and was painfully aware that she was regarding him with the same feeling of disappointment; she quite evidently thought him too young and insignificant looking for a person of his reputation.
Miss Snell had not given him time to reply to Miss Price's remark about her study at Julian's, but prattled on about her own work and the unsurmountable difficulties that lay in the way of a woman's successful career as a painter.
"I have been studying for years under ——," said Miss Snell, "and really I have no time to lose. It will end by my simply going to him and saying, quite frankly: 'Now, Monsieur ——, I have been in your atelier for four years, and I can't afford to waste another minute. There are no two ways about it. You positively must tell me how to do it. You really must not keep me waiting any longer. I insist upon it.' How discouraging it is!" she sighed. "It seems quite impossible to find any one who is willing to give the necessary information."
Miss Price's wandering eyes had at last found a resting-place on a large, half-finished canvas standing on an easel. Something attractive in the pose and turn of her head made the Painter watch her as he lent a feeble attention to Miss Snell's conversation.
Miss Price's lips were very red, and the clear freshness of extreme youth bloomed in her cheeks; she was certainly charming. During one of Miss Snell's rare pauses she spoke, and her thin high voice came with rather a shock from between her full lips.
"May I look?" was her unnecessary question, for her eyes had never left the canvas on the easel since they had first rested there. She rose as she spoke, and went over to the painting.
The Painter pulled himself out of the cushions on the divan where he had been lounging, and went over to push the big canvas into a better light. Then he stood, while the girl gazed at it, saying nothing, and apparently oblivious to everything but the work before him.
He was roused, not by Miss Price, who remained admiringly silent, but by the enraptured Miss Snell, who had also risen, gathering furs and wraps about her, and was now ecstatically voluble in her admiration. English being insufficient for the occasion, she had to resort to French for the expression of her enthusiasm.
The Painter said nothing, but watched the younger girl, who turned away at last with a sigh of approbation. He was standing under the window, leaning against a table littered with paints and brushes.