Though this tone of his must have been new to her, it seemed agreeable to her, for she said very humbly: 

“Well, why did you stay away so long?”

“I’ll tell you later.  But as matters now stand between us, I forbid your striking up such friendships.  If you want to do something for the fellow, present him with a comb and a nail brush and a tooth-brush.  Besides, his name isn’t Rigo but Max, and he’s a seedy sort of chap, absolutely dependent upon his friends.”

In his moments of jealousy, it was easy for Ingigerd to put Frederick to shame.

“It makes no difference to me,” she said, “whether a man is poor or rich, whether he dresses like a dude or a tramp.  Rigo intends to paint my portrait, and I’m looking forward with pleasure to being his model.”

“His model?  You won’t be his model.  I’ll see to that,” said Frederick.  “But please explain how you hit upon ‘Rigo’?  Why do you call him ‘Rigo’?  Tell me.”

“His mother was a gypsy, and when he was a child, some respectable people took him into their family.”

“Do you believe that?  Franck’s friends say he lies every time he opens his mouth.”

“I’m not a father confessor.  He may lie for all I care.”

Frederick did not reply.

Ingigerd was still sitting at the table.  With gentle ardour he pressed his lips to her head, loosened the ribbon tying her hair at the nape of her neck, and plunged his fingers deep into the wave of flowing gold.

“Where were you?” the girl asked.  Frederick told her of Peter Schmidt and the exhilarating afternoon in Ritter’s studio.

“I don’t like that sort of thing,” she said.  “How can people drink wine?”

The thought passed through Frederick’s mind that the girl’s remarks were rather flat and failed to echo the things he had been telling her.

About an hour later Frederick asked Willy to help him find a boarding house where he and Ingigerd could live, or Ingigerd could live alone without his protection.

“You must realise,” Frederick explained, “that no matter how unprejudiced you and your friends may be, it won’t do to let a young lady remain permanently in a bachelors’ club-house.”

Willy did realise the impropriety of the situation; and that very same evening he found an excellent place for her with friends on Fifth Avenue.

The next morning, after the men had left the house, Frederick again fell under the spell of a strange excitement that led him to Ingigerd’s room.  This time, however, it was not a wave of passion, but a storm of desire for self-purification.