The young man was saved by the arrival of his guests at the porch steps,
and by the appearance of Conrad Lagrange, in the doorway.

"How delightful!" exclaimed Mrs. Taine, heartily; as she, in turn, greeted
the famous novelist. "Mr. King was just telling me that you were going to
share this dear little place with him. I quite envy you both."

The others had passed into the house.

"You are sometimes guilty of saying twisty things yourself, aren't you?"
returned the man; and, as he spoke, his remarkable eyes were fixed upon
her as though reading her innermost thoughts.

She flushed under his meaning gaze, but carried it off gaily with--"Oh
dear! I wonder if my maid has hooked me up properly, this time?"

They left Mr. Taine in an easy chair, with a bottle of his favorite
whisky; and went over the place--from the arbor in the rose garden to Yee
Kee's pantry--Mr. Rutlidge, critically and authoritatively approving;
Louise, effervescing the same sugary nothings at every step; Mrs. Taine,
with a pretty air of proprietorship; Conrad Lagrange, thoughtfully
watching; and Aaron King, himself, irresponsibly gay and boyishly proud as
he exhibited his achievements.

In the studio, Mrs. Taine--standing before the big easel--demanded to
know of the artist, when he would begin her portrait--she was so
interested, so eager to begin--how soon could she come? Louise assumed a
worshipful attitude, and, gazing at the young man with reverent eyes,
waited breathlessly. James Rutlidge drew near, condescendingly attentive,
to the center of attraction. Conrad Lagrange turned his back.