but inconceivably bitter on the subject of the pitfalls which lie in the path of the artist. Under the stress of emotion he ate enormously.
Then came Mr. James.
At the sight of him Hilary Vance sprang to his feet and bellowed with a vast reproachfulness, "How could you let me? You call yourself my friend: how could you let me?"
"Have you repented already?" said Mr. James coolly, to all seeming unmoved by his friend's heart- and ear-rending tone.
"Repented? I knew nothing about it. Last night was a blank to me, save for some glorious visions. Then that girl—my model—Ermyntrude came and told me that I had proposed marriage to her."
Mr. James laughed a hearty, but unsympathetic, laugh, and said: "You were extraordinarily funny last night. I've never known you more romantic. And all the while you were making an egregious fool of yourself, you were more ineffably solemn than Solomon in all his glory. Ermyntrude's friends will be able to swear conscientiously to the entire seriousness of your proposal of marriage."
