After about an hour of silence (Jack was obstinately dumb during Teresina’s presence in the studio, believing that those infernal models could understand anything a fellow said) a round knock at the door made Guy breathe a low “confound it!” Egerton called “Come in,” & the next moment a portly gentleman, unmistakably English from top to toe, stood on the threshold. “Mr. Graham!” said Jack, rising. “You find me at work on the last touches of your little thing. Let me present my friend, Mr. Hastings, whose fame of course…I need not say….Mr. Graham bowed, & was very much honoured by an introduction to Mr. Hastings. Mr. Graham spoke in a satisfied, important voice. Mr. Graham had the uneasy, patronizing air of a man who stands higher than his level, & is not quite sure of his footing. “You see,” Jack continued, lightly, moving a chair forward for his august visitor, “that we painters are not quite such idle fellows as the world makes us out to be. Hastings & I take advantage of this fine light for our work.” “So I observe,” said Mr. Graham, with a bow. “I see you’ve nearly done my order—a very nice little bit (as you artists would say) a very nice little bit.” As Mr. Graham spoke, his eye wandered about the motley room, & in its course rested on Teresina. As Guy had said, she got “so confoundedly frightened” when any stranger was present; it was the first year she had been hired as a model, & the miserable life had not yet rubbed off her girlish bloom. When she met Mr. Graham’s scrutinizing eyes, her lashes drooped & a soft crimson stole over her neck & face, making her lovelier than ever; “let me go, Signore,” she whispered to Guy, who had approached her to rearrange some detail in her dress. Then, without a word, she slipped down from her elavation, & stole quickly out of the room, still followed by Mr. Graham’s gaze. “A model, eh? A very pretty little girl, Mr. Hastings. And a very nice picture—a very good likeness.” Mr. Graham threw his head back critically & fancied, worthy man, that he had been eminently calculated to discriminate justly in art. “Have you been long at that, eh?” he continued, nodding towards the picture. “Two sittings,” said Guy, shortly; he was vexed that this intrusion had put his shy bird to the flight, & could not abide this goodnatured bourgeois patronage which Jack laughed at & professed to like as a study of character. “A very pretty, sweet little girl,” said Mr. Graham, who had a weighty way of repeating his remarks as if they were too precious to pass at once into oblivion.