To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. It is not the woman who speaks there. The inn was a military haunt. " "Where are you going?" asked his mother. “I wanted to go to an art-student ball of which he disapproved. She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin. I won’t even ask. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. ” He left off abruptly.
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