"How provoking you are! I don't approve of cigars, and I will only allow it on condition that you let me put you into my sketch; I need a figure."
"With all the pleasure in life. How will you have me? full-length, or three-quarters; on my head or my heels? I should respectfully suggest a recumbent posture, then put yourself in also, and call it, 'Dolce far niente.'"
"Stay as you are, and go to sleep if you like. I intend to work hard," said Amy, in her most energetic tone.
"What delightful enthusiasm!" and he leaned against a tall urn, with an air of entire satisfaction.
"What would Jo say if she saw you now?" asked Amy impatiently, hoping to stir him up by the mention of her still more energetic sister's name.
"As usual: 'Go away, Teddy, I'm busy'!" He laughed as he spoke, but the laugh was not natural, and a shade passed over his face, for the utterance of the familiar name touched the wound that was not healed yet. Both tone and shadow struck Amy, for she had seen and heard them before, and now she looked up in time to catch a new expression on Laurie's face—a hard, bitter look, full of pain, dissatisfaction and regret. It was gone before she could study it, and the listless expression back again. She watched him for a moment with artistic pleasure, thinking how like an Italian he looked, as he lay basking in the sun, with uncovered head, and eyes full of Southern dreaminess; for he seemed to have forgotten her, and fallen into a reverie.
"You look like the effigy of a young knight asleep
