when the bust was finished he told her suddenly that he must go to
a country where he could get models. He could see she was
disappointed at losing him, and he asked her if she would sit.

"You don't want a nude model for Our Blessed Lady. Do you?"

There was a look, half of hesitation, half of pleasure, and he
knew that she would sit to him, and he guessed she would have sat
to him long ago if he had asked her. No doubt his long delay in
asking her to sit had made her fear he did not think her figure a
good one. He had never had such a model before, not in France or
in Italy, and had done the best piece of work he had ever done in
his life. Harding had seen it, and had said that it was the best
piece that he had done. Harding had said that he would buy it from
him if he got rid of the conventional head, and when Harding had
left him he had lain awake all night thinking how he should model
Lucy's head, and he was up and ready for her at eight, and had
done the best head he had ever done in his life.

Good God! that head was now flattened out, and the child was
probably thrown back over the shoulders. Nothing remained of his
statue. He had not the strength to do or to think. He was like a
lay figure, without strength for anything, and if he were to hear
that an earthquake was shaking Dublin into ruins he would not
care. "Shake the whole town into the sea," he would have said.

The charwoman had closed the door, and he did not hear Lucy until
she was in the studio.

"I have come to tell you that I cannot sit again. But what has