She started eagerly forward toward the easel. But the artist, with a quick
motion, drew a curtain across the canvas, to hide his work; while he
checked her with--"Not yet, please. I don't want you to see it until I say
you may."

"How mean of you," she protested; charmingly submissive. Then,
eagerly--"And do you want me to-morrow? You do, don't you?"

"Yes, please--at the same hour."

When the Quaker Maiden's dress was safely hidden under her wrap, Mrs.
Taine stood, for a moment, looking thoughtfully about the studio; while
the artist waited at the door, ready to escort her to the automobile. "I
am going to love this room," she said slowly; and, for the first time, her
voice was genuinely sincere, with a hint of wistfulness in its tone that
made him regard her wonderingly.

She went to him impulsively. "Will you, when you are famous--when you are
a great artist and all the great and famous people go to you to have their
portraits painted--will you remember poor me, I wonder?"

"Am I really going to be famous?" he returned doubtfully. "Are you so sure
that this picture will mean success?"

"Of course I am sure--I _know_. You want to succeed don't you?"

Aaron King returned her look, for a moment, without answering. Then, with
a quick, fierce determination that betrayed a depth of feeling she had
never before seen in him, he exclaimed, "Do I want to succeed! I--I must
succeed. I tell you I _must_."