"Clare? of course. She's going to call on you tomorrow."

"Oh, she needn't put herself out--she's never been yet," said Undine
loftily.

He made no rejoinder, but presently asked: "Who's that you're waving
to?"

"Mr. Popple. He's coming round to see us. You know he wants to paint
me." Undine fluttered and beamed as the brilliant Popple made his way
across the stalls to the seat which her neighbour had momentarily left.

"First-rate chap next to you--whoever he is--to give me this chance,"
the artist declared. "Ha, Ralph, my boy, how did you pull it off? That's
what we're all of us wondering." He leaned over to give Marvell's hand
the ironic grasp of celibacy. "Well, you've left us lamenting: he has,
you know. Miss Spragg. But I've got one pull over the others--I can
paint you! He can't forbid that, can he? Not before marriage, anyhow!"

Undine divided her shining glances between the two. "I guess he isn't
going to treat me any different afterward," she proclaimed with joyous
defiance.

"Ah, well, there's no telling, you know. Hadn't we better begin at once?
Seriously, I want awfully to get you into the spring show."

"Oh, really? That would be too lovely!"

"YOU would be, certainly--the way I mean to do you. But I see Ralph