of it on the floor. When he opened his closet door now-a-days, little dust-coloured insects flew out on downy wing, and he suspected that a brood of moths were hat

od as high as his middle when he had knotted the corners. Then he got his shoes and overshoes together. When he took his overcoat from its place against the partition, a long ray of yellow light shot a

lorious in action. As she swung her arms and changed from one pivot of motion to another, muscular energy seemed to flow through her from her toes to her finger-tips. The soft flush of exercise and the gold of afternoon sun played over her flesh together, enveloped her in a luminous mist which, as she turned and twisted, made now an arm, now a shoulder, now a thigh, dissolve in pure ligh

up a lock of hair that had come down, and examined with solicitude a little reddish mole that grew under her left arm-pit.

h the west windows, at the lake of gold sleeping on the faded Turkish carpet. The spot was enchanted;

erent; he hated the disorder of the place, the grey prison light, his old shoes and himself and all his slovenly habits. The black calico curtains that ran on wires over his big window were white with dust. T

leaned this afternoon, thoroughly cleaned

eful Tammany man, and she owned real estate in Flatbush. She was huge and soft as a feather bed. H

mpany. T

r a cleaning woman. It's likely I can get you old Lizz

an animated dish-clout. She had, of course, to borrow her equipment from Mrs. Foley, and toiled up the long flights, dragging mop and pail and broom. She told Hedger to be of good cheer, for he had got the right woman for the job, and showed him a great leather strap she wore about her wrist to prevent dislocation of tendons. She swishe

ased with itself, doing all this for a purpose. Hedger scarcely regarded his action as conduct at all; it was something that had happened to him. More than once he went out and tried to stay away for the whole afternoon, but at about five o'clock he was sure to find himself among his old shoes in the dark. The pull of that aperture was stronger than his will,-and he had always considered his wil

por of work. He could not understand it; he was no boy, he had worked from models for years, and a woman's body was no mystery to him. Yet now he did nothing but sit and think about one. He slept very little, and with the first light of morning he awoke as completely possessed by

ntry. He felt an unreasoning antipathy toward the well-dressed women he saw coming out of big shops, or driving in the Park. If, on his way to the Art Museum, he noticed a pretty girl standing on the steps of one of the houses on upper Fifth Avenue, he frowned at her and went by with his shoulders hunched up as if he were cold. He had never known such girls, or heard them talk, or seen the inside of the house

shirt-waists and got letters from Chicago would keep out of his way, that she did not exist. With her he had naught to make. But in a room full of sun, before an old mirror, on a little enchanted rug of sleeping colours, he had seen a woman who emerged naked through a door, and disappeare

lkative than when they left. One of them sat down at the piano, and they all began to sing. This Hedger found absolutely unendurable. He snatched up his hat and went running down the stairs. Caesar leaped beside him, hoping that old times were coming back. They had supper in the oysterman's basement and then sat down in front of their own doorway. The moon stood full over the Squ

k she has a bea

h. "She has a beautiful figure."

and peered through that fatal aperture. She was sitting, fully dressed, in the window, smoking a cigarette and looking out

d several times glanced in his direction. He was on the point of going over to her, when she rose quickly and looked up at the sky. A flock of pigeons had risen from somewhere in the crowded Italian quarter to the south, and were wheeling rapidly up t

beside her. "You've su

e them every day from my windows. They always c

them for the market. They were here long b

m? Why didn't you take m

That's the best li

to see your pictures sometime. You have such a lot in there

to show them to you.

en your letter

Bowers, but my friend Mr. Jones, a Chicago newspaper man who write

Illinois, was Edna, but Mr. Jones had persuaded her to change it to one which he felt would be worthy of her f

was waiting in New York for Chicago friends who were to take her o

of France all last summer, studying with C--. He's t

h. "Do tell me about it. I expected to be there by th

e town on the coast where his painter lived, and presented himself. The man never took pupils, but because Hedger had come so far, he let him stay. Hedger lived at the master's house and every day they went out together to paint, sometimes on

ou do anything but work? Are the women very beautifu

obsters. About the food there was nothing remarkable,-except the ripe figs, he liked those. They drank

s or banquets? Aren't there

losed in summer, and the

tiful count

tiful?" sh

I'll show you some sk

Here comes your dog. You can't move but he's after you. He always makes a face at me wh

agdalen of Henner, these landscapes were not at all beautiful, and they gave her no idea of any country whatsoever. She was carefu

ked, and began to dust his fingers with a handkerch

sly. "I think that's a good place, and they

asily. "I'm afraid I hav

e in the Square? It won

ten dollars from the bottom of an old copper kettle he had brought from Spain. His winter hat was of such a complexio