Laura Lou must have got back long before him. She would be waiting at home, perhaps resenting the fact of his not having stayed with her at the gallery. He swung along impatiently, trying to put out of his mind the secret well of joy that fed him: the thought of the quiet evening with Mrs. Tarrant and his book… . Since he had rung her up that evening, more than a month ago, he had been with her perilously often, meeting her at dinners, at informal studio parties, sometimes going with her to the theatre or to a symphony concert. To be with her nearly every day, to share with her all his artistic and intellectual joys, to carry to her every new experience, every question, every curiosity, had become an irresistible need. She had drawn him back to the frank footing of friendship, and skilfully kept him there. But they had not yet had another long evening alone by the lamp, and now he felt that he must pour out his whole soul to her or have no peace.

Laura Lou was huddled up close to the radiator, which gave out but little warmth on Mrs. Hubbard's third floor. She had tossed her hat and coat on the bed, and wrapped her stooping shoulders in the bedquilt.

"Well," Vance said, with hollow gaiety, "where the devil did you run away to? I hunted for you all over the place."

She lifted a face in which triumph struggled with resentment. He saw that for some reason she was annoyed with him, yet for another pleased. "Oh, I got tired staying round there with all those strange people; and I couldn't bear to look any longer at that hateful thing."

"What hateful thing?"

"That awful bust. How could you let them show such a thing? It made me sick to see it."

"Didn't you like it? It's been a good deal admired," he muttered, piqued by her tone.

"Why, Vanny, can't you see they're only laughing at you when they tell you that?"

"Who's 'they'?"

"Why, all your fashionable friends. That Mrs. Pulsifer, for instance. And even she wasn't sure. She said: 'Do you suppose we ought to admire it, Mrs. Weston?' And when I said: 'I never saw anything so awful,' I could see she was kind of relieved. Oh, Vanny," she continued, her face brightening, "I think you ought to see more of her. She says she was the first one to recognize your talent, and she wanted ever so much to help you, but she never sees you any more because you won't go with anybody but those Tarrants."

His blood leapt up. "Nonsense—that fool of a woman! The biggest humbug … "

"It's not humbug to say you always go with the Tarrants… . You never left her at the gallery… ."