He was early astir. With the morning light came quickness and clearness of thought. His scheme began to look more distinct and feasible. By way of getting it in hand at once, he tapped lightly at the door of Astra's studio.
He was somewhat surprised to find her before an easel, palette and brushes in hand. She smiled and blushed at his approach.
"I know what you would say," she began, apologetically,—"'A Jack at all trades,' et caetera, but I really wanted color for this subject." She pointed to her canvas. "Do you recognize it?"
"I can see that those are Miss Bergan's eyes," replied Doctor Remy;—"all else is delightfully vague and suggestive."
"And what eyes they are!" exclaimed Astra, admiringly,—-not without a pleasant perception, too, that she had succeeded wonderfully well in putting them on canvas.
Doctor Remy did not answer immediately. He was regarding the portrait with a gravity that Astra could not understand,—unless, indeed, his thoughts were elsewhere. Nevertheless, when he spoke, it was sufficiently to the point.
"Yes, they are very fine eyes," said he. "And Miss Bergan is altogether very pretty,—in an uncommon style, too. It is surprising that she has remained heartfree so long."
Astra looked at him with soft, smiling, amused eyes. "Heartfree! As much as I am," said she.
Doctor Remy gave her a questioning look.
"I am not going to tell you anything about it," said she, laughingly. "Use your eyes, sometimes, in watching your neighbors, as I do."