The Magician | Page 9

like a pork-pie tipped over your nose; and next year, for
all I know, it will be beautiful to wear a bonnet like a sitz-bath at the
back of your head. Art has nothing to do with a smart frock, and
whether a high-heeled pointed shoe commends itself or not to the
painters in the quarter, it's the only thing in which a woman's foot looks

really nice.'
Susie Boyd vowed that she would not live with Margaret at all unless
she let her see to the buying of her things.
'And when you're married, for heaven's sake ask me to stay with you
four times a year, so that I can see after your clothes. You'll never keep
your husband's affection if you trust to your own judgment.'
Miss Boyd's reward had come the night before, when Margaret, coming
home from dinner with Arthur, had repeated an observation of his.
'How beautifully you're dressed!' he had said. 'I was rather afraid you'd
be wearing art-serges.'
'Of course you didn't tell him that I insisted on buying every stitch
you'd got on,' cried Susie.
'Yes, I did,' answered Margaret simply. 'I told him I had no taste at all,
but that you were responsible for everything.'
'That was the least you could do,' answered Miss Boyd.
But her heart went out to Margaret, for the trivial incident showed once
more how frank the girl was. She knew quite well that few of her
friends, though many took advantage of her matchless taste, would
have made such an admission to the lover who congratulated them on
the success of their costume.
There was a knock at the door, and Arthur came in.
'This is the fairy prince,' said Margaret, bringing him to her friend.
'I'm glad to see you in order to thank you for all you've done for
Margaret,' he smiled, taking the proffered hand.
Susie remarked that he looked upon her with friendliness, but with a
certain vacancy, as though too much engrossed in his beloved really to
notice anyone else; and she wondered how to make conversation with a

man who was so manifestly absorbed. While Margaret busied herself
with the preparations for tea, his eyes followed her movements with a
doglike, touching devotion. They travelled from her smiling mouth to
her deft hands. It seemed that he had never seen anything so ravishing
as the way in which she bent over the kettle. Margaret felt that he was
looking at her, and turned round. Their eyes met, and they stood for an
appreciable time gazing at one another silently.
'Don't be a pair of perfect idiots,' cried Susie gaily. 'I'm dying for my
tea.'
The lovers laughed and reddened. It struck Arthur that he should say
something polite.
'I hope you'll show me your sketches afterwards, Miss Boyd. Margaret
says they're awfully good.'
'You really needn't think it in the least necessary to show any interest in
me,' she replied bluntly.
'She draws the most delightful caricatures,' said Margaret. 'I'll bring you
a horror of yourself, which she'll do the moment you leave us.'
'Don't be so spiteful, Margaret.'
Miss Boyd could not help thinking all the same that Arthur Burdon
would caricature very well. Margaret was right when she said that he
was not handsome, but his clean-shaven face was full of interest to so
passionate an observer of her kind. The lovers were silent, and Susie
had the conversation to herself. She chattered without pause and had
the satisfaction presently of capturing their attention. Arthur seemed to
become aware of her presence, and laughed heartily at her burlesque
account of their fellow-students at Colarossi's. Meanwhile Susie
examined him. He was very tall and very thin. His frame had a
Yorkshireman's solidity, and his bones were massive. He missed being
ungainly only through the serenity of his self-reliance. He had high
cheek-bones and a long, lean face. His nose and mouth were large, and
his skin was sallow. But there were two characteristics which

fascinated her, an imposing strength of purpose and a singular capacity
for suffering. This was a man who knew his mind and was determined
to achieve his desire; it refreshed her vastly after the extreme weakness
of the young painters with whom of late she had mostly consorted. But
those quick dark eyes were able to express an anguish that was hardly
tolerable, and the mobile mouth had a nervous intensity which
suggested that he might easily suffer the very agonies of woe.
Tea was ready, and Arthur stood up to receive his cup.
'Sit down,' said Margaret. 'I'll bring you everything you want, and I
know exactly how much sugar to put in. It pleases me to wait on you.'
With the grace that marked all her movements she walked cross the
studio, the