that he would do his best to send her another in a day or two. That was certainly what he would do.

The relief of the decision did not, however, last long.

It was all very well to throw up the engagement, but was it fair upon Miss Lascelles? Everitt knew by experience that one model was by no means the same as another, and, as artist, he found his solution questionable. Also, he now felt an insurmountable objection to introducing the real Giuseppe to that little studio—it had an air of desecration repugnant to his good taste, if to nothing more. And thirdly, in spite of fooling, in spite of cramps, it must be owned he had a lurking desire to find himself there again; the homeliness of the place, its old-fashioned solidity, its mellow brick, its sunshine, its trees, its birds, its associations—one and all had, as he was obliged to acknowledge, taken a certain hold on his imagination. The girls were merely an accident—a pleasant and harmonious accident, it is true—but their surroundings had an extraordinary fascination; he could not reconcile himself to have no second peep at them. Mrs Marchmont might no doubt take him there if he announced himself as penitent for rejection of her good offices; stupidly enough, however, he had effectually shut himself out, since the risk of discovery in going to call upon the lady who has been painting you in an assumed character was rather more than even his audacity could face.

It appeared, under all these circumstances, as if the best thing he could do was to figure as a ruffian once more.

“It will be a lesson to me,” he said, with a half laugh, “even if fate lets me off this time without playing me a scurvy trick.”

Fate spared him. He got into his studio unseen of Hill or Jack. Jack came thundering at his door not three minutes after he had changed his clothes.

“A pretty fellow you are!” he began indignantly, when Everitt let him in. “Out larking all this morning, while we poor wretches toil and slave! And down upon me for taking an hour now and then! Where have you been?”

“Find out,” said Everitt, grimly.

“A polite way of suggesting that I should mind my own business. Well, it’s my turn now. I’m off. But as I am more civil than you, I will inform you that I am going to study effects on the Thames. Silvery reaches, sweeping clouds—all that style of thing. Excellent practice, isn’t it?”

“Oh, excellent,” 

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