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"Because it is a dangerous thing to handle. Although the poison is dried up, yet there may be enough in it to kill a man. If I parted with it and anyone was injured by it I should never forgive myself. Pray put it up, Maurice; I dislike to see you touch it. To-night, after dinner, I shall lock it up in a safe place. David is right; it should not be on the wall there." "Well, let me take you home through the garden then—and, yes, I believe I'll stay to supper with Mrs. Henderson. Don't you want to tell me what a little girl like you did in a big city, and—and read me part of that Paris letter I saw the postman give Jane this afternoon?" "I am not so sure of that, Etwald. How did you know that David would confess in so dramatic a fashion?".

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"I know it!" she cried. "It makes even me feel as though I could turn off masterpieces instanter. Merely to look at those lumps of clay in the modeling room made me simply ache to get my hands into them. I was enchanted the moment I came in here with you this morning, never dreaming that I should be so lucky as to be one of the illustrious band myself. You're a perfect duck, Norn, to let me tag along after you here." "Ju hasn't let go of Mrs. Shelly's hand since we left the restaurant," said Patricia apart to Elinor, as they were taking off their wraps in the studio again. "Poor little kid, she certainly does worship that dear little old lady." "Well, have it your own way," said Etwald, carelessly. "I am a scoundrel in your eyes, I dare say; but if you will permit me to see you to-morrow at eleven o'clock I shall be able to prove that this particular devil--meaning myself, major--is not quite so black as you have painted him." "Did you see the Haldens on the train, Frad?" asked Patricia as she and David were talking aside by the studio window while Elinor was welcoming Tom Hughes and Griffin, Margaret Howes and Mr. Spicer, who had all arrived in a bunch, Tom having lagged behind to get a big sheaf of roses for Elinor, whom he admired immensely..