"Oh! And so, spiritually as well as artistically, you believe in
the Virgin?"
"You also can make a better Virgin if you believe in her otherwise
than esthetically."
Drene gazed at him incredulously, then, with a shrug: "When do you want this thing started?"
"Now."
"I can't take it on now."
"I want a sketch pretty soon--the composition. You can have a model
of the chapel to--morrow. We went on with it as a speculation. Now
we've clinched the thing. When shall I send it up from the office?"
"I'll look it over, but--"
"And," interrupted Guilder, "you had better get that Miss White for
the Virgin--before she goes off somewhere out of reach."
Drene looked up somberly: "I haven't kept in touch with her. I don't know what her engagements
may be."
"One of her engagements just now seems to be to go about with
Graylock," said Guilder.
Drene flushed, but said nothing.
"If he marries her," added Guilder, "as it's generally understood he
is trying to, the best sculptor's model in town is out of the
question. Better secure her now."
"He wants to marry her?" repeated Drene, in a curiously still voice.
"He's mad about her. He's abject. It's no secret among his
friends. Men like that--and of that age--sometimes arrive at such a
terminal--men with Graylock's record sometimes get theirs. She has
given him a run, believe me, and he's brought up with a crash
against a stone wall. He is lying there all doubled up at her feet
like a rabbit with a broken back. There was nothing left for him to
do but lie there. He's lying there still, with one of her little feet
on his bull neck. All the town knows it."
"He wants to marry her," repeated Drene, as though to himself.
"She may not take him at that. They're queer--some women. I suppose
she'd jump at it if she were not straight. But there's another
thing--" Guilder looked curiously at Drene. "Some people think she's
rather crazy about you."
Drene gazed into space.
"But that wouldn't hurt her," added Guilder, in his calm, pleasant
voice. "She's a straight little thing--white and straight. She could
come to no harm through a man like you."
Drene continued to stare at space.
"So," continued the other, confident, "when she recovers from a
natural and childlike infatuation for you she'll marry somebody. . .
Possibly even such a man as Graylock might make her happy. You
can't ever tell about such men at the eleventh hour."