"Do you do this--regularly?" she pursued with an effort.

"Off and on. There's good money in it."

"Oh!" she mourned again. Then: "You're doing this so that you can afford
to buy paints and canvas and--and things to paint me," she accused. "It
isn't fair!"

"I'd do worse than this for that," he declared valiantly.

Less than a fortnight later she caught him doing worse. She had ceased
to speak to him of his chauffeurdom because it seemed to cause him
painful embarrassment. (It did, and should have!) There had been a big
theater party, important enough to get itself detailed in the valuable
columns which the papers devote to such matters, and afterward supper at
the most expensive uptown restaurant, Miss Roberta Holland being one of
the listed guests. As she took her place at the table, she caught a
glimpse of an unmistakable figure disappearing through the waiter's
exit. And Julien Tenney, who had risen from his little supper party of
four (stag) hastily but just too late, on catching sight of her, saw
that he was recognized. Flight, instant and permanent, had been his
original intent. Now it would not do. Bolder measures must be devised.
He appealed to the head-waiter to help him carry out a joke, and that
functionary, developing a sense of humor under the stimulus of a
twenty-dollar bill, procured him on the spot an ill-fitting coat and a
black string tie, and gave him certain simple directions. When the
patroness of Art next observed the object of her patronage, he was
performing the humble but useful duties of an omnibus.