'You've earned _your_ success anyway, and it'll be a thumper.
Now look here, where can we talk business ?' Fenwick put down his palette, and slipped his arms into his coat.
The model lit a lamp, and disappeared.

Eugenie meanwhile withdrew discreetly to the further end of the room, where she busied herself with some wood-blocks on which Fenwick had been drawing.

The two men remained hidden behind the large canvas, and she heard nothing of their conversation.

She was aware, however, of the scratching of a pen, and immediately after her father called to her.
'Eugenie, come!--we must get back for dinner.' Fenwick, looking up, saw her emerging from the shadows of the further room into the bright lamp-light, her grey veil floating cloudwise round her.

As she came towards him, he felt her once more the emblem and angel of his good-fortune.