The Nest Builder by Hale, Beatrice Forbes-Robertson

Of their many acquaintances few were unrepresented except Miss Berber, to whom Mary had felt disinclined to send an invitation. She had sounded Stefan on the subject, but had been answered by a "Certainly not!" so emphatic as to surprise her.

At the house Gunther, with his great height and magnificent viking head, was unquestionably the hit of the afternoon. Holding the baby, which lay confidently in his powerful hands, he examined its head, arms and legs with professional interest, while every woman in the room watched him admiringly.

"This baby, Mrs. Byrd, is the finest for his age I have ever seen, and I have modeled many of them," he pronounced, handing it back to Mary, who blushed to her forehead with pleasure. "Not that I am surprised," he went on, staring frankly at her, "when I look at his mother. I am doing some groups for the Pan-American exhibition next year in San Francisco. If you could give me any time, I should very much like to use your head and the baby's. I shall try and arrange it with you," and he nodded as if that settled the matter.

"Oh," gasped Constance, "you have all the luck. Mary! Mr. Gunther has known me for years, but have _I_ had a chance to sit for him? I feel myself turning green, and as my gown is yellow it will be most unbecoming!" And seizing Farraday as if for consolation, she bore him to the dining room to find a drink.

Stefan, who was interested in Gunther, tried to get him to the barn to see his pictures; but the sculptor would not move his eyes from Mary, and Stefan, considerably bored, was obliged to content himself with showing the studio to some of his prettiest neighbors.

Nor did his spirits improve when the party came to an end.

"Bon Dieu!" he cried, flinging himself fretfully into a chair. "Is our house never to be free of chattering women? The only person here to-day who speaks my language was Gunther, and you never gave me a chance at him."

Mary gasped, too astonished at this accusation to refute it.

"Ever since we came down here," he went on irritably, "the place has seethed with people, and overflowed with domesticity. I never hear one word spoken except on the subject of furniture, gardening and babies! I can't work in such an environment; it stifles all imagination. As for you, Mary--"

He looked up at her. She was standing, stricken motionless, in the center of the room. Her hair, straighter than of old, seemed to droop over her ears; her form under its loose muslin dress showed soft and blurred, its clean-cut lines gone, while her face, almost as white as the gown, was woe-begone, the eyes dark with tears. She stood there like a hurt child, all her courageous gallantry eclipsed by this unkind ending to her happy day. Stefan rose to his feet and faced her, searching for some phrase that could express his sense of deprivation. He had the instinct to stab her into a full realization of what she was losing in his eyes.

"Mary," he cried almost wildly, "your wings are gone!" and rushed out of the room.

PART IV

WINGS

I