D. G.

At once her feeling of acute boredom left her, was replaced by a keen sense of excitement. She realized immediately that at last Garstin had finished his picture, that at last he had satisfied himself. She had not seen Garstin since the day when she had heard of her father's death.

Nor had she seen Arabian. Characteristically, Garstin had not taken the trouble to send her a letter of condolence. He never bothered to do anything conventional. If he had written he would probably had congratulated her on coming into a fortune. Arabian's sympathy had already been expressed. Naturally, therefore, he had not written to her.

But he had made no sign in all these days, had not left a card, had not attempted to see her. Day after day she had wondered whether he would do something, give some evidence of life, of intention. Nothing! He had just let her alone. But in his inaction she had felt him intensely, far more than she felt other men in their actions. He had, as it were, surrounded her with his silence, had weighed upon her by his absence.

She feared and was fascinated by his apparent indifference, as formerly, when with him, she had feared and been fascinated by his reticence of speech and of conduct. Only once had he taken the initiative with her, when he had ordered the taxi-cab driver to go to Rose Tree Gardens.

And even then, when he had had her there alone in his flat, nothing had happened. And he had let her go without any attempt to detain her.

In his pa.s.sivity there was something hypnotic which acted upon her. She felt it charged with power, with intention, even almost with brutality.

There was a great cry for her in his silence.

She did not answer Garstin's note. That was not necessary. She knew she would see him on the morrow.

Directly after lunch on the following day she walked to Glebe Place, wondering whether Arabian would be there.

As usual, Garstin answered the door and covered her with a comprehensive glance as she stood on the doorstep.

"Black suits you," he said. "You ought never to go out of mourning."

"Thank you for your kind sympathy, d.i.c.k," she answered. "One can always depend on you for delicacy of feeling and expression in time of trouble."

He smiled as he shut the door.

"You tartar!" he said. "Be careful you don't develop into a shrew as you get on in life."

She noticed at once that he was looking unusually happy. There was even something almost of softness in his face, something almost of kindness, certainly of cordiality, in his eyes.

"Evidently coming into money hasn't had a softening influence upon you,"

he added.

To her surprise he took her into the ground floor studio and sat down on the big divan there.

"Aren't we going upstairs?" she said.

"In a minute. Don't be in such a blasted hurry, my girl!"

"Well, but--"

She followed his example and sat down.

"Is anyone up there?"

"Not a soul. Who should there be?"

"Well, I don't know. I thought perhaps--"

"Old Nick was there? Well, he isn't!"

"How absurd you are!" she said, almost with confusion, and looking away from him. "I only wondered whether you had a model with you."

"I know, I know!"

After a rather long pause she said:

"What are we waiting here for?"

"Oh--just to rest!"

"But I'm not tired."

"I didn't suppose you were."

Again there was a pause, in which Miss Van Tuyn felt a tingling of impatient irritation.

"I suppose you are doing this merely to whet my appet.i.te," she said presently, unable to bear the unnatural silence. "Of course I know you have finished the picture at last. You have asked me to come here to see it. Then why on earth not let me see it? All this waiting can't come from timidity. I know you don't care for opinion so long as your own is satisfied."

He sent her an odd look that was almost boyish in its half mischievous, half wistful roguishness.

"My girl, you speak about a painter with great a.s.surance, and, let me add, with great ignorance. I'll tell you the plain truth for once. I've been keeping you down here out of sheer diffidence. Now then!"

"d.i.c.k!"

His lean blue cheeks slightly reddened as he looked at her. She knew he had spoken the truth, and was touched. She got up quickly, went to him, and put one hand on his shoulder.

"You are afraid of me! But no--I can't believe it!"

"Ha!"

He got up.

"It is finished?"

"Yes, at last it's done."

"Has--have you shown--I suppose he has seen it?"

Garstin shook his head, and a dark lock of hair fell over his forehead.

"He doesn't even know it is finished, the ruffian! He's given me a d.a.m.ned lot of trouble. I'll keep him on the gridiron a bit longer.

Grilling will do him good."

"Then I am the first?"

"Yes, you are the first."

"Thank you, d.i.c.k," she said soberly. "May I go up now?"

"Yes, come on!"