"Charming, charming," and Carrington's eye, passing from my canvas, rested on Miss Jones.
"Which?" I asked, smiling, and, of course, in an undertone.
"It depends, my dear boy, on whether you ask me if I prefer Phryne or Priscilla--pagan or puritan; both are interesting types, and the contrast can be very effectually studied here in your picture and your model."
"Yet Priscilla lends herself wonderfully to be interpreted as Phryne."
"Or, rather, it is wonderful that you should have imagined Manon into that face."
In the next rest, when Carrington had gone, Miss Jones said:
"Mr. Carrington walked home with me yesterday. Papa thinks rather highly of him. It is a pity his life should be so pointless."
It began to be borne in upon me that Miss Jones had painfully serious ethical convictions.
"I suppose you mean from the socialistic standpoint," I said.
"Oh, no--not at all; I am not a socialist. Papa and I agree to differ upon that as upon many other questions. Socialism, I think, tends to revolt and license."
I did not pursue the subject of Carrington's pointlessness nor proffer a plea for socialism. I was beginning to wince rather before Miss Jones's frankness.
On the following day she again came and stood before my picture.
"I posed for Mr. Watkins, R.A., last year," she said. "The picture was in the Academy. Did you see it? It was beautiful."
The mere name of Mr. Watkins ("R.A.") made every drop of æsthetic blood in my body curdle. A conscienceless old prater of the soap and salve school, with not as much idea of drawing or value as a two-year Julianite.
"I don't quite remember," I said, rather faintly; "what was--the picture called?"
"'Faith Conquers Fear,'" said Miss Jones. "I posed as a Christian maiden, you know, tied to a stake in the Roman amphitheatre and waiting martyrdom. The maiden was in a white robe, her hair hanging over her shoulders (perhaps you would not recognize me in this costume), looking up, her hands crossed on her breast. Before her stood a jibing Roman. One could see it all; the contrast between the base product of a vicious civilization and the noble maiden. One could read it all in their faces; hers supreme aspiration, his brutal hatred. It was superb. It made one want to cry."