I want to look at your picture," she added slowly as her eyes fell upon the canvas.
Minute after minute she sat there in silence, neither stirring nor offering comment.

And after a long time he moved restlessly in the depths of the chair beside her.
Then she turned and looked down at him: "Yes," she said, "it is really great....

And, _somehow_, I am lonely.
Take me, Louis." He drew her into his arms.

She lay very silent against his breast for a while, and at last raised her curiously troubled eyes.
"You are going to be a very, very great painter, aren't you, Louis ?" He laughed and kissed her, watching her face.
"Don't be too great--so great that I shall feel too--too lonely," she whispered.
Then his eyes fell upon the ring which he had given her--and which she had gently put aside.

She was wearing it on her betrothal finger.
"Where did you--find it ?" he said unsteadily.
"In its box on your dresser." "Do you realise what it means ?" "Yes....