"Why, I thought you went everywhere—into the palaces of kings!" Francie cried.
"I go where I'm welcome, not where I'm not. I don't want to push into that studio alone; he doesn't like me. Oh, you needn't protest," the young man went on; "if one is sensitive one is sensitive. I feel those things in the shade of a tone of voice. He doesn't like newspaper-men. Some people don't, you know. I ought to tell you that frankly."
Francie considered again, but looking this time at her visitor. "Why, if it hadn't been for you"—I am afraid she said "hadn't have been"—"I never would have sat to him."
Mr. Flack smiled at her in silence for an instant. "If it hadn't been for me I think you never would have met your future husband."
"Perhaps not," said Francie; and suddenly she blushed red, rather to her companion's surprise.
"I only say that to remind you that after all I have a right to ask you to show me this one little favour. Let me drive with you to-morrow, or next day or any day, to the Avenue de Villiers, and I shall regard myself as amply repaid. With you I sha'n't be afraid to go in, for you have a right to take any one you like to see your picture. It's always done."
"Oh, the day you're afraid, Mr. Flack—!" Francie exclaimed, laughing. She had been much struck by his reminder of what they all
