Читать книгу White Magic. A Novel онлайн

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“You’ve given me a second sitting—much better, because you didn’t realize it.”

“May I see?”

His sudden alarm revealed the profoundly modest man, uneasy about the merits of his unfinished work. “Not yet,” said he positively. “Wait till there’s something to look at.”

“Very well,” she acquiesced.

A certain note in her voice made him laugh. “You don’t care in the least about the picture—do you?”

“Yes, indeed,” protested she. But the attempt to conceal his having hit upon the truth was far from successful. She realized it herself. “I care only about the pay,” confessed she.

“We can talk while I work, now.”

She protested. “No, that isn’t honest. I gave you my whole attention. You must pay in the same way. You must do your best to amuse me.”

“Well?”

“Come here, and sit on this log.”

He obeyed. “You deserve better pay,” said he. “I never had a professional model who behaved so well.”

“Do you know, I never did anything so obediently in my whole life,” declared she. “I don’t understand myself.” There was seriousness behind the mirth in the glance she flung at him. “I’m a little afraid of you. I half believe you hypnotize me. You—seem to—to put to sleep my ordinary, every-day self and to wake up one that’s usually asleep—one I’ve only known—until—until recently—as a—a sort of troublesome ghost that haunts me from time to time.”