She had made everything comfortable for the artist; there was no further pretext for staying.

So she said she would go, now, and asked him to summon the servants in case he should need anything.

She went away unhappy; and she left unhappiness behind her; for she carried away all the sunshine.

The time dragged heavily for both, now.

He couldn't paint for thinking of her; she couldn't design or millinerize with any heart, for thinking of him.