celebrated firm of architects, and wandered back rather aimlessly.

For a while he stood by the great window, watching the pigeons on
neighboring roof. Presently he returned to his table, withdrew the
dancing figure with its graceful, wide flung arms, set it upon the
squeaky revolving table once more, and studied it, yawning at
intervals.

The girl got up from the sofa behind him, went to the model-stand,
and mounted it. For a few moments she was busy adjusting her feet to
the chalk marks and blocks. Finally she took the pose. She always
seemed inclined to be more or less vocal while Drene worked; her
voice, if untrained, was untroubled. Her singing had never bothered
Drene, nor, until the last few days, had he even particularly
noticed her blithe trilling--as a man a field, preoccupied, is
scarcely aware of the wild birds' gay irrelevancy along the way.

He happened to notice it now, and a thought passed through his mind
that the country must be very lovely in the mild spring sunshine.

As he worked, the brief visualization of young grass and the faint
blue of skies, evoked, perhaps, by the girl's careless singing, made
for his dull concentration subtly pleasant environment.

"May I rest?" she asked at length.

"Certainly, if it's necessary."

"I've brought my lunch. It's twelve," she explained.