He gave another twirl or two to the table, wiped his bony fingers on
a handful of cotton waste, picked up his empty pipe, and blew into
the stem, reflectively.

Quair, one of the associated architects of the new opera, who had
been born a gentleman and looked the perfect bounder, sauntered over
to examine the sketch. He was still red from the rebuke he had
invited.

Guilder, his senior colleague, got up from the lounge and walked
over also. Drene fitted the sketch into the roughly designed group,
where it belonged, and stood aside, sucking meditatively on his
empty pipe.

After a silence:

"It's all right," said Guilder.

Quair remarked that the group seemed to lack flamboyancy. It is
true, however, that, except for Guilder's habitual restraint, the
celebrated firm of architects was inclined to express themselves
flamboyantly, and to interpret Renaissance in terms of Baroque.

"She's some girl," added Quair, looking at the lithe, modeled
figure, and then half turning to include the model, who had seated
herself on the lounge, and was now gazing with interest at the
composition sketched in by Drene for the facade of the new opera.

"Carpeaux and his eternal group--it's the murderous but inevitable
standard of comparison," mused Drene, with a whimsical glance at the