to tell the story about Flackerman, I know."

The speaker was the most noticeable man in the group. Tom Bently, an
artist, was a tall, swarthy fellow with thin black beard, stubble-like
hair, and a gypsyish look. Next came Fred Rangely, an author of some
reputation, of whom his friends expected great things, rather short in
stature, thick-set, and with a good-tempered, intelligent face.
Fenton's appearance has already been touched upon; he was of elegant
figure, with a face intellectual, high-bred, but marred by a suspicion
of superciliousness. Amid these friends, Herman gained something by
contrast with each and naturally became the center of the group. This
prominence was partly due to his figure, of large mold, finely formed
and firmly knit, carrying always an air of restful strength and
composure which made itself felt in whatever company he found himself.
His head, although not out of proportion with his fine shoulders and
trunk, was somewhat massive, a fact which was emphasized a little by
the profusion of his locks, now plentifully sprinkled with gray. His
face was indicative of much character, the lips firm and full, the eyes
large and dark, now serious under their heavy brows and now twinkling
with contagious merriment.

"It isn't every model you can talk scandal about," chuckled Bently, in
reply to Herman's remark. "We had a devilishly pretty fuss in Nick
Featherstone's studio the other day. Nick found his match in the new
model."

"What new model?" inquired Fenton, arranging himself into an effective
pose before the fire.

"Do you remember the picture of an Italian girl that Tom Demming sent