It seemed very long ago this morning; but you have brought it back to me so vividly, it might have been yesterday. Have you neglected your profession as I have mine? You were modelling in those days, were you not?"
"Yes, I am a sculptor, and am always at work."
Looking down, Rondelet noticed that her small, bare hands, lying loosely clasped, were unusually firm-looking for those of so young a person. Margaret Ruysdale, sculptor, could hardly have more than attained her first score of years. He was ten years her senior, and since his last birthday had known the pain of finding himself no longer in the twenties. His feet were still hesitating what life-path to tread, and this slim girl quietly claimed the profession which had counted among its followers some of the greatest men the world has known. Her assertion had been made very simply and without assumption. She was a sculptor, and used as best she could the tools of Phidias and Angelo.
"I am to take you in to dinner," said Rondelet, as a general move was made in the direction of the dining-room.
"I am very glad," answered Margaret Ruysdale, sculptor, laying her small white hand upon his arm with the air of a comrade. She had put aside all coquetry, if she had ever possessed it,
