One Monday morning in mid-January she was surprised to receive a call from Claude. “I would like to again begin painting you,” he said. “Can you come in next Thursday, at ten o’clock?” He sounded quite animated.
“Uh, sure,” she replied. “How was your trip?”
“C’était formidable!” he replied. “I will tell you when we meet. Unfortunately, I must go now. So, until next Thursday. À bientôt.”
Eve hung up the phone. A sudden surge of elation filled her like an electric charge. It stayed with her throughout the day and continued into the next. The degree of excitement she felt at the prospect of resuming her modeling sessions with Claude surprised her; she could hardly contain her impatience. A disturbing thought entered her mind. Could it be that she had begun to fall in love with Claude? The
