decision to remove Raymond from the temptations of Rome when she noted his indifference to Assembly and then prom dances, obviously preferring to spend his time with boys from prep school and Princeton. It was apparent that Raymond, unlike his father, was not to be a lady's man but a man's man. What interested her less, if at all, was that Raymond wanted to be an artist. He had early discovered a minor talent in modeling and had been persisting in this talent whilst playing with boys, boy and man, in New York and Europe for the ensuing forty years when Lucy encountered him. The boy he presently was playing with was his latest protégé Hal who, a harpist of talent, was also revealing a talent for disloyalty, disturbing his peace of mind when he was making his refined modelings in terra cotta of neo-Greek forms.
Inexplicably, this Hellenistic Tanagra Lyle had brought seemed to him except for her Western accent a new stimulus. He would enjoy modeling her, perhaps as Leda, paint the figure and inset lapis lazuli for her extraordinary slanting eyes which were not missing anything. Pity she was not a boy. What a pleasure then it would be to teach her about the world. Not that those one taught were grateful. "I am delighted you approve of my new Picasso."
He seemed more friendly, Lucy thought. "I've seen pictures like that in Mode, but to tell you the truth they don't mean a thing to me."
"Artists have their own way of looking at things."
"Like poets, I suppose."
This was most unexpected and he turned his chair toward hers. "Exactly. If you will come to tea someday I will show you what some other artists have done. I am afraid the rooms are too occupied at the moment to get a good view."
"I'd love to. I have matinees Wednesday and Saturday."
"Thursday then."
"Have you seen my show?"
"I rarely go out any more. I find the theatre repetitious."
On this note Beman came up. "Figente, have you heard from Simone? I've written her but there's been no answer. Neil just returned from Paris and says she's in Brussels with some boy. It's damned annoying as I want her for my show."
"Yes," replied Figente blandly, "she's with Vermillion—a young painter—and I doubt whether you'll get her. I think you ought to have Helen of Troy here."
"Oh!" said Beman, flustered by Figente's mad notion. "I'll
