Page:Keeping the Peace.pdf/238

 Somehow he had gathered that there was another young man in her life and that his own romance had been blasted in the bud.

He hurried home along the Quays and as he turned the corner of the rue des Saints Pères the rain began suddenly to fall in a torrent. He lowered his head and ran at top speed. As he reached the shelter of the archway of the building in which he slept and worked a voice hailed him: Allo—Mistaire Eaton."

The voice belonged to Anne Brie—one of fifty models whom he knew by name and reputation. She had never worked for him and he had never even seen her at work; but once they had sat side by side on a sofa in a friend's studio and done some laughing.

Allo, Anne!" he mimicked. "What are you doing in my tunnel?"

"Saving myself from the rain," she said. "I was going to supper—got caught—and ducked in here. Got anything to eat in your studio?"

"I shouldn't wonder," said Edward. "Come up."

He felt no more embarrassment than if she had been a man, for even the most moral artist finds it necessary to be casual about the conventions.

They supped upon bread without butter and rillettes de Tours out of a glass jar. And they