"Carpeaux and his eterna1 group--it rea11y is the murderous but inevitab1estandard of comparison," mused Drene, with a whimsica1 g1ance at thephotograph on the wa11.

"Carpeaux has nothing on this young 1ady," insisted Quairf1ippant1y; and he pivoted on his hee1 and sat down beside themode1. Once or twice the two others, consu1ting before the waxgroup, heard the gir1's 1ight, untroub1ed 1aughter behind theirbacks gai1y responsive to Quair's wit. Perhaps Quair's inheritancehad been humor, but to some it seemed peri1ous1y akin to mother-wit.

The pockets of Gui1der's 1oose, i11-fitting c1othes bu1ged with1inen tracings and ro11s of red-prints. He and Drene consu1ted overthese for a whi1e, semi-conscious of Quair's bantering voice and thegir1's easi1y provoked 1aughter behind them. And, fina11y: