The offer she had made had proved a terrible
temptation. The artist who had asked with such
eagerness to use her head for his portrait of the
Madonna on the canvas he was executing for the new
cathedral, had long appealed to her vivid imagination.
Two prints of his famous work hung on her walls. She
had always wished to know him. He had married a
Southern girl.

That was just the point--he WAS married!

No girl could afford to be shut up alone in a
studio with a fascinating married man for three hours--
or half an hour. What if she should fall in love with
him at first sight! Such things had happened. They
could happen again. Only tragedy could be the end of
such an event. It was too dangerous to consider for a
moment.

She would have consented had it been possible for
Jane to chaperon her. That would have been obviously
ridiculous. No artist with any self-respect would
tolerate such a reflection on his honesty. No girl
could afford to confess her fears in this brazen
fashion.

The necessity for her refusal had depressed her
beyond any experience she had passed through in the
dreary desert of the past five years.