modelled his group in the nude first, and Harding, who had been
with him the night before last, had liked it much better than
anything he had done, Harding had said that he must not cover it
with draperies, that he must keep it for himself, a naked girl
playing with a baby, a piece of paganism. The girl's head was not
modelled when Harding had seen it. It was the conventional
Virgin's head, but Harding had said that he must send for his
model and put his model's head upon it. He had taken Harding's
advice and had sent for Lucy, and had put her pretty, quaint
little head upon it. He had done a portrait of Lucy. If this
terrible accident had not happened last night, the caster would
have come to cast it to-morrow, and then, following Harding's
advice always, he would have taken a "squeeze," and when he got it
back to the clay again he was going to put on a conventional head,
and add the conventional draperies, and make the group into the
conventional Virgin and Child, suitable to Father McCabe's
cathedral.

This was the last statue he would do in Ireland. He was leaving
Ireland. On this point his mind was made up, and the money he was
going to receive for this statue was the money that was going to
take him away. He had had enough of a country where there had
never been any sculpture or any painting, nor any architecture to
signify. They were talking about reviving the Gothic, but Rodney
did not believe in their resurrections or in their renaissance or
in their anything. "The Gael has had his day. The Gael is
passing." Only the night before he and Harding had had a long talk
about the Gael, and he had told Harding that he had given up the
School of Art, that he was leaving Ireland, and Harding had
thought that this was an extreme step, but Rodney had said that he