Miranda
saw that it had wheels. She lay down close to it, for she knew it was
the perfect dog.
Hilary watched the little moonlight lady lying vigilant, affectionate,
beside this perfect dog, who could not hurt her. She panted slightly,
and her tongue showed between her lips. Presently behind his seat he saw
another idyll. A thin white spaniel had come running up. She lay down in
the grass quite close, and three other dogs who followed, sat and looked
at her. A poor, dirty little thing she was, who seemed as if she had not
seen a home for days. Her tongue lolled out, she panted piteously, and
had no collar. Every now and then she turned her eyes, but though they
were so tired and desperate, there was a gleam in them. 'For all its
thirst and hunger and exhaustion, this is life!' they seemed to say. The
three dogs, panting too, and watching till it should be her pleasure to
begin to run again, seemed with their moist, loving eyes to echo: 'This
is life!'
Because of this idyll, people near were moving on.
And suddenly the thin white spaniel rose, and, like a little harried
ghost, slipped on amongst the trees, and the three dogs followed her.
CHAPTER XIX
BIANCA
In her studio that afternoon Blanca stood before her picture of the
little model--the figure with parted pale-red lips and haunting,
pale-blue eyes, gazing out of shadow into lamplight.
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