Claude was in a buoyant mood when she arrived at his studio Thursday morning. He now had an easel mounted with an empty canvas, and he hurried her to undress and take her place on the cot, assuming the same posture she had at the end of the last modeling session. Gently he touched her, now holding her left ankle, then her right arm, and lastly her face, making slight adjustments in position until he had the precise effect he wanted. His hands were cold; they sent little shivers through her. Then he assumed his place at the easel and began painting. She lay there for nearly an hour and a half while he painted and meanwhile chatted, mainly about his trip home, about his parents, about Paris, and how beautiful it was in the winter with the lighted trees lining the Champs-Elysées, and the shop
