Page:The Van Roon (IA thevanroon00snaiiala).pdf/218

 "Yes, there is," said June, doing her best to pick up his light tone of intimacy. "It is important, I suppose, for an artist's model to have hair long and thick."

"Ra-ther!" As he looked at her sideways, out of the corner of one eye, his tone seemed to change a little; and then he got up alertly from his chair, the mantle of the model host again upon him. "I'm afraid there's not much to offer you in the way of refreshment. There's only whisky. If you'll excuse me a minute, I'll fetch another glass."

"Oh, no, please, not for me," said June quickly. She was very tired and horribly depressed, but she had been strictly brought up.

The host seemed a little amused by her vehemence. He looked at her keenly with a pair of curious, small, near-set eyes, which June liked even less now than when she had noticed them first. "Well, have a cigarette, anyhow. These are like mother's milk." And he offered a box of Virginia.

June also declined a cigarette, in the same odd, rather fluttered tone which caused him to smile in a way that added to her nervousness.

"No? Well, make yourself comfy, anyhow. Draw your chair up to the fire."

She thanked him in a voice which, in spite of itself was a little prim, and which assured him that she was quite warm enough where she was. The attempted lightness and ease had gone; a subtle sense of fear, bred of hidden danger yet without any root in fact or logic, was rising in her. The position itself was embarrassing, yet so far Mr. Keller had shown no wish to presume upon it. Up till now he had been easy and charming; but June, in spite of worldly inexperience,