Bangs, who was developing a new and hitherto unsuspected vein of tact,
encouraged Epstein to enlarge on this congenial theme. He now fully
realized that Devon would go his own gait until he wearied of it, and
that no argument or persuasion could enter his armor-clad mind. The
position of Bangs was a difficult one, for while he was accepting and
assimilating this unpleasant fact, Epstein and Haxon--impatient men by
temperament and without much training in self-control--were getting
wholly out of patience and therefore out of hand. Haxon, indeed, was for
the time entirely out of hand, for he had finally started the rehearsals
of a new play which, he grimly informed Bangs, would make "The Man
Above" look like a canceled postage-stamp.

Bangs repeated the comment to his chum the next morning, during the late
dressing-hour which now gave them almost their only opportunity for a
few words together. He had hoped it would make an impression, and he
listened with pleasure to a sharp exclamation from Laurie, who chanced
to be standing before the door mirror in the dressing-room, brushing his
hair. The next instant Bangs realized that it was not his news which had
evoked the tribute of that exclamation.

"Come here!" called Laurie, urgently. "Here's something new; and, by
Jove, isn't she a beauty!"

Bangs interrupted his toilet to lounge across the room. Looking over
Laurie's shoulder, his eyes found the cynosure that held the gaze of his
friend. The wide-open studio window was again reflected in the mirror,
but with another occupant.

This was a girl, young and lovely. She appeared in the window like a
half-length photograph in a frame. Her body showed only from above the
waist. Her elbows were on the sill. Her chin rested in the hollows of
her cupped hands. Her wavy hair, parted on one side and drawn softly
over the ears in the fashion of the season, was reddish-gold. Her eyes
were brown, and very thoughtful. Down-dropped, they seemed to stare at
something on the street below, but the girl's expression was not that of
one who was looking at an object with interest. Instead, she seemed lost
in a deep and melancholy abstraction.

Laurie, a hair-brush in each hand, stared hard at the picture.

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