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" "Bring your story to an end, Sir," said Trenchard who had listened to the recital with mingled emotions of rage and fear. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. ” The tired woman sat still for a moment. There was nothing to be learned from her face. She got up, as she had been told to do, at his appearance, and he amazed her by sitting down, according to custom, on her stool. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly. I'll engage to get the job done by six. She had pushed aside her azure veil, taken off her snow-glasses, and sat smiling under her hand at the shining glories—the lit cornices, the blue shadows, the softly rounded, enormous snow masses, the deep places full of quivering luminosity—of the Taschhorn and Dom. You are an artist by the Divine right of birth, but whatever form of expression may come to you at some time it will not be painting.
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