When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity. “I don’t mind, of course, your seeing her sometimes, still there are differences— differences in social atmospheres. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Are you prepared to do it?” Her hands clenched. Before the question could be answered, a side-door was opened, and a very handsome woman of Amazonian proportions presented herself, and marched familiarly up to Mr. ‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. He was an officer, and a person of very great sense, and altogether a desirable parti.
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