claws of a kitten.

"And how did you ever get the model to take that startled pose?" Blanche
was asking Lewis.

"That's where the luck came in," said Lewis, smiling; "and the luck is
what keeps the work from being great."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," said Lewis, "Le Brux says that luck often leads to success,
never to greatness."

"And how did luck come in?" drawled Vi.

Lewis smiled again.

"I'll tell you," he said. "The model is an old pal of mine. One day we
were bathing in the Marne,--at least I was bathing, and she was just
going to,--when a farmer appeared on the scene and yelled at her. She
was startled and turning to make a run for it when I shouted, 'Hold that
pose, Cellette! She's a mighty well-trained model. For a second she held
the pose. That was enough. She remembered it ever after.

"Does it take a lot of training to be a model?" asked Blanche. "How
would I do?" She turned her bare shoulders frankly to him.

Lewis glanced at her. "Yours is not a beauty that can be held in stone,"
he said. "You are too respectable for a bacchante, too vivacious for
anything else." He turned to Vi. "You would do better," he said as