"I think not," said the young man, who was extremely pale. "This is not
the first time. I bid you good morning, Madame--and good-bye!"

He stood looking at the now frightened woman, with a strange, surprised
look, like one just emerging from a semi-conscious state; and in that
moment, as Doris seemed to perceive, the traditions of his birth and
breeding had returned upon him; something instinctive and inherited had
reappeared; and the gentlemanly, easy-going father, who yet, as Doris
remembered, when matters were serious "always got his way," was
there--strangely there--in the degenerate son.

"Where are you going?" repeated Madame, eyeing him. "You promised to
give me lunch."

"I regret--I have an engagement. Mr. Bentley--when the sitting is
over--will you kindly see--Miss Flink--into a taxi? I thank you very
much for allowing me to come and watch your work. I trust the picture
will be a success. Good-bye!"

He held out his hand to Bentley, and bowed to Doris. Madame made a rush
at him. But Bentley held her back. He seized her arms, indeed, quietly
but irresistibly, while the young man made his retreat. Then, with a
shriek, Madame fell back on her chair, pretending to faint, and Bentley,
in no hurry, went to her assistance, while Doris slipped out after young
Dunstable. She overtook him on the door-step.

"Mr. Dunstable, may I speak to you?"

He turned in astonishment, showing a grim pallor which touched her pity.