Page:Rowland--The closing net.djvu/43

Rh was dressed like a swell, for John had brought me down some of his own things, I having been in evening clothes when pinched the night of Léontine's supper party.

"Let's go out to the studio," said John. "Edith is at work on her Salon picture."

So out we went, and John rapped at the door of a pretty little vine-covered building, placed well clear of the big trees. From inside a clear voice called: "Entrez."

My friend, I shall never forget that picture; not the one on the easel, but Edith as she turned to greet us. You know her, of course, and appreciate what a lovely creature she is, with her tall, queenly figure and wonderful great eyes. They are not woman's eyes; they are more the eyes of some splendid archangel guarding the gates of Paradise; clear and steadfast and deep as Heaven itself. She was in her paint-blouse, standing in front of a big canvas, a portrait, and posing in the middle of the studio was an uncommonly beautiful girl in evening dress and a great rope of gorgeous pearls.

Edith laid down her palette and brushes and came forward with a smile on her sweet mouth and a tinge of colour in her cheeks.

"Welcome, Frank," she said, then glanced from me to her husband and laughed.

"You are like as two peas," she said. "I don't wonder that you got a dreadful start when you saw John."

She gave me her hand and I took it in a sort of daze. Then I looked at the girl who was posing. Edith smiled.