"A sort of academic convention," said Cope, rather wanly; "but a necessary
one."
His eyes had begun to show excessive application; at least they looked
tired and dim. His color, too, was paler. He had come to suggest again the
young man who had been picked up from Medora Phillips' dining-room floor
and laid out on the couch in her library, and who had shown a good deal of
pallor during the few days that followed. "Take a little more air and
exercise," Randolph counselled.
"A good rule always, for everybody," said Lemoyne, with a withholding of
all tone and expression.
"I believe," Randolph continued, "that you are losing in both weight and
color. That would be no advantage to yourself--and it might complicate Miss
Dunton's problem. It's perplexing to an artist when one's subject changes
under one's very eye."
"There won't be much time for sitting, from now on," observed Lemoyne
concisely.
"I might try to go round once more," said Cope, "--in fairness. If there
are to be higher lights on my cheekbones and lower lights for my eyes, an
hour or so should serve to settle it."
"I wouldn't introduce many changes into my eyes and cheekbones, if I were
you," said Randolph.
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