"I have known her a month--since she first came to my studio. She lives
in a hotel, and she comes alone, except when I need the dress and then
she brings her maid, an odd creature who never speaks and seems to
understand no known language."

"It is an interesting face. Do you mind if I stay till she comes? We
may really be cousins, you know."

"By all means--you can ask her. The relationship would be with her
husband, I suppose."

"True. I had not thought of that; and he is dead, you say?"

Gouache did not answer, for at that moment the lady's footfall was heard
upon the marble floor, soft, quick and decided. She paused a moment in
the middle of the room when she saw that the artist was not alone. He
went forward to meet her and asked leave to present Orsino, with that
polite indistinctness which leaves to the persons introduced the task of
discovering one another's names.

Orsino looked into the lady's eyes and saw that the slight peculiarity
of the glance was real and not due to any error of Gouache's drawing. He
recognised each feature in turn in the one look he gave at the face
before he bowed, and he saw that the portrait was indeed very good. He
was not subject to shyness.

"We should be cousins, Madame," he said. "My father's mother was an
Aranjuez d'Aragona."

"Indeed?" said the lady with calm indifference, looking critically at