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 and out of here every hour, just about. I like it. Friends around me while I’m slaving.”

“Gosh!” he thought, “‘she’sI don’t know—she’s”

“Shall we go?” said Paula.

He had forgotten all about her. “Yes. Yes, I’m ready if you are.”

Outside, “Do you think you’re going to like the picture?” Paula asked. They stepped into her car.

“Oh, I don’t know. Can’t tell much about it at this stage, I suppose.”

“Back to your office?”

“Sure.”

“Attractive, isn’t she?”

“Think so?”

So he was going to be on his guard, was he! Paula threw in the clutch viciously, jerked the lever into second speed. “Her neck was dirty.”

“Crayon dust,” said Dirk.

“Not necessarily,” replied Paula.

Dirk turned sideways to look at her. It was as though he saw her for the first time. She looked brittle, hard, artificial—small, somehow. Not in physique but in personality.

The picture was finished and delivered within ten days. In that time Dirk went twice to the studio in Ontario Street. Dallas did not seem to mind. Neither did she appear particularly interested. She was working hard both times. Once she looked as he had seen her on her first visit. The second time she had