'I beg your pardon,' began Annette.

'I don't want any models at present,' said the Brute. 'Leave your card
on the table.'

'I am not a model,' said Annette, coldly. 'I merely came--'

At this the Brute emerged from his fortifications and, removing his
pipe from his mouth, jerked his chair out into the open.

'I beg your pardon,' he said. 'Won't you sit down?'

How reckless is Nature in the distribution of her gifts! Not only had
this black-hearted knocker on floors a pleasant voice, but, in
addition, a pleasing exterior. He was slightly dishevelled at the
moment, and his hair stood up in a disordered mop; but in spite of
these drawbacks, he was quite passably good-looking. Annette admitted
this. Though wrathful, she was fair.

'I thought it was another model,' he explained. 'They've been coming in
at the rate of ten an hour ever since I settled here. I didn't object
at first, but after about the eightieth child of sunny Italy had shown
up it began to get on my nerves.'

Annette waited coldly till he had finished.

'I am sorry,' she said, in a this-is-where-you-get-yours voice, 'if my
playing disturbed you.'

One would have thought nobody but an Eskimo wearing his furs and winter