“Surely you’re not jealous of Hanky?” said she, with audacious mischief.

He ignored this.

“Don’t look so sour. I was merely joking. Are you cross because I made you help me tell—things that weren’t quite so?”

“I don’t like that sort of business,” said he, unconvincingly industrious with his brush.

“Neither do I,” said she. “But what was I to do? You know, you forced me into engaging myself to him.”

He stopped work, stared at her. The light—or something—that morning was most becoming to her, the smallish, slim, yellow-haired sprite—most disturbingly becoming.

She went on in the same sweet, even way: “And if it hadn’t been for my coming here to act as your model I’d not have got into trouble. And, having got in, what was there to do but get out with as little damage to poor Peter’s feelings as possible?” Then she looked at him with innocent eyes, as if she had uttered the indisputable.

[85]Roger surveyed her with admiration. “You are—the limit!” he exclaimed. “The limit!”

[85]

“But isn’t what I said true?” urged she. “What else could I have done?”

“True? Yes—true,” said he, making a gesture of resignation. “I admit everything—anything.”

“Now, do be reasonable, Chang!” she reproached. “Where isn’t it true?”

“If I let myself argue with you I’d be running wild through the woods in about fifteen minutes. Tell me, does anyone in your family—or among your acquaintances—does anyone ever dispute with you?”

She reflected, ignoring the irony in his tone. “No,” said she, “I don’t believe they do. I have my own way.”

“I’d have sworn it,” cried he.

“You are the only one that ever opposes me,” said she.

“I? Oh, no. Never! But in this one thing I must.” He changed to seriousness. “Rix, I’ll have nothing to do with your deceiving that nice young chap. That’s flat and final.”

“Isn’t he nice, though!” exclaimed she. “I’ve always liked him since he was a little boy at dancing school with such a polite, quiet way of 

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