She paused. People were passing near, and she smiled and bowed once or
twice, but Hagar saw that the fire in her eyes had deepened.

"Is it strong enough for your picture?" she said quietly.

"It is as strong as it is painful. Yet there is beauty in it, too, for I
see the girl's face."

"You see much in her face, of course, for you look at it as an artist.
You see shame, indignation, bitterness--what else?"

"I see that moment of awe when the girl suddenly became a woman--as the
serious day breaks all at once through the haze of morning."

"I know you can paint the picture," she said, "but you have no model for
the girl. How shall you imagine her?"

"I said that I would paint you in the scene," he answered slowly.

"But I am not young, as she was; am not--so good to look at."

"I said that I saw beauty in the girl's face. I can only see it through
yours."

Her hands clasped tightly before her. Her eyes turned full on him for an
instant, then looked away into the dusk. There was silence for a long time
now. His cigar burned brightly. People kept passing and repassing on the
terrace below them. Their serious silence was noticeable.