"Well, the light is good," returned Hortense, "and the place is quiet; and
if Mr. Cope will drop in two or three times, I think he will end by feeling
that I have done him justice."
"This is a most kind attention," said Cope, slightly at sea. "I ought to be
able to find time some afternoon...."
"Not too late in the afternoon," Hortense cautioned. "The light in February
goes early."
When Lemoyne heard of this new project he gave Cope a _look_. He had
no concern as to Mrs. Phillips, who was, for him, but a rather dumpy, over-
brisk, little woman of forty-five. If she must run off with Bert every so
often in a motor-car, he could manage to stand it. Besides, he had no
desire to shut Cope--and himself--out of a good house. But the niece,
scarcely twenty-three, was a more serious matter.
"Lookout!" he said to Cope. "Lookout!"
"I can take care of myself," the other replied, rather tartly.
"I wish you could!" retorted Lemoyne, with poignant brevity. "I'll go with
you."
"You won't!"
"I'd rather save you near the start, than have to try at the very end."
Cope flung himself out; and he looked in at Hortense's studio--which she
had taken (or borrowed) for a month--before the week was half over.
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