Sylvester is jealous of her? Wonder who she was! Nice girl I
daresay--Sylvester's taste was always good excepting when he married.
Where is Bob with my model?--time he was back! (_Goes to window_.)
There goes Sylvester--funny thing you can always tell a married man by
his walk. There is a solidity about it--a sort of resignation. (_Turns
looking off the other way_.) And here comes a pretty girl.--What a
pretty girl--Funny thing you can always tell a pretty girl by her walk.
There is a consciousness about it--a thanksgiving. She is stopping
here. Lovely woman stopping here!
(_Throws up window, and leans out more and more till gradually only a
small section of his legs remain on the stage_)
ROSALINE (_off_).
Is this Mr. Tempenny's studio?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
It is. I am Mr. Tempenny. Come up do.
ROSALINE.
No kid?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Not yet--I am recently married.
ROSALINE.
I mean you are really Mr. Tempenny.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Really and truly. (_Withdraws from window, wreathed in smiles_.) How do
I look? (_Smoothes his hair before mirror_.) Perhaps she is a buyer--I
had better appear busy--or inspired. (_Seats himself and adopts a
far-away engrossed expression_.) "Rembrandt Tempenny at Home."
_Knock at door. Enter_ ROSALINE.
ROSALINE.
May I come in?
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Enter pray. An idea has struck me. May I beg you to sit down a
moment,--In a moment I shall be at your service.
ROSALINE _sits_. REMBRANDT TEMPENNY _stares raptly before him as if
lost in composition. (Business.) He starts up and rushes to small
canvas, making violent sketch upon it. Then brushes his hand across his
brow, and turns to her_.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
I dared not lose it--my idea! Forgive me--I have it down now, it is
saved. What can I do for you?
ROSALINE.
Mr. Addison sent me. He said you wanted a model.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Oh--you are Rosaline?
ROSALINE.
You have guessed it in once. He could not come back with me, so he sent
me here alone.
REMBRANDT TEMPENNY.
Oh!
ROSALINE.
What do you think of me?
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