He gave himself up to the delight of his insight, the power of his reproduction, and to the intense satisfaction of knowing that out of the two there grew something of more than usually keen intrinsic interest within the wide creed of his art.

He worked with every nerve tense upon his conception of what he saw, which so excluded other considerations that now and then, in answer to some word of hers that distracted him, he spoke to her almost roughly.

At which Elfrida, with a little smile of forgiving comprehension, obediently kept silence.
She saw the artist in him dominant, and she exulted for his sake.

It was to her delicious to be the medium of his inspiration, delicious and fit and sweetly acceptable.
And they had agreed upon a charming pose.
Presently Kendal lowered his brush impatiently.

"Talk to me a little," he said resentfully, ignoring his usual preference that she should not talk because what she said had always power to weaken the concentration of his energy.