the thrill of his proximity as a subtler element in the general interest she was exciting, was at last repaid for the disappointment of her evening at the opera.  It was characteristic of her that she remembered her failures as keenly as her triumphs, and that the passionate desire to obliterate, to “get even” with them, was always among the latent incentives of her conduct.  Now at last she was having what she wanted—­she was in conscious possession of the “real thing”; and through her other, diffused, sensations Ralph’s adoration gave her such a last refinement of pleasure as might have come to some warrior Queen borne in triumph by captive princes, and reading in the eyes of one the passion he dared not speak.  When the curtain fell this vague enjoyment was heightened by various acts of recognition.  All the people she wanted to “go with,” as they said in Apex, seemed to be about her in the stalls and boxes; and her eyes continued to revert with special satisfaction to the incongruous group formed by Mrs. Peter Van Degen and Miss Ray.  The sight made it irresistible to whisper to Ralph:  “You ought to go round and talk to your cousin.  Have you told her we’re engaged?”

“Clare? of course.  She’s going to call on you tomorrow.”

“Oh, she needn’t put herself out—­she’s never been yet,” said Undine loftily.

He made no rejoinder, but presently asked:  “Who’s that you’re waving to?”

“Mr. Popple.  He’s coming round to see us.  You know he wants to paint me.”  Undine fluttered and beamed as the brilliant Popple made his way across the stalls to the seat which her neighbour had momentarily left.

“First-rate chap next to you—­whoever he is—­to give me this chance,” the artist declared.  “Ha, Ralph, my boy, how did you pull it off?  That’s what we’re all of us wondering.”  He leaned over to give Marvell’s hand the ironic grasp of celibacy.  “Well, you’ve left us lamenting:  he has, you know.  Miss Spragg.  But I’ve got one pull over the others—­I can paint you!  He can’t forbid that, can he?  Not before marriage, anyhow!”

Undine divided her shining glances between the two.  “I guess he isn’t going to treat me any different afterward,” she proclaimed with joyous defiance.

“Ah, well, there’s no telling, you know.  Hadn’t we better begin at once?  Seriously, I want awfully to get you into the spring show.”

“Oh, really?  That would be too lovely!”

“You would be, certainly—­the way I mean to do you.  But I see Ralph getting glum.  Cheer up, my dear fellow; I daresay you’ll be invited to some of the sittings—­that’s for Miss Spragg to say.—­Ah, here comes your neighbour back, confound him—­You’ll let me know when we can begin?”

As Popple moved away Undine turned eagerly to Marvell.  “Do you suppose there’s time?  I’d love to have him to do me!”

Ralph smiled.  “My poor child—­he would ‘do’ you, with a vengeance.  Infernal cheek, his asking you to sit—­”