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When at
last, with a little sigh, and a tremulously smiling acknowledgment of
fatigue, she got up and looked at her watch, it was four o'clock in the
morning. She'd had one of those experiences that every artist can
remember a few of in his life, when it is impossible for anything to go
wrong; when each tentative experiment accomplishes not only its purpose,
but another unsuspected purpose as well; when the vision miraculously
betters itself in the execution; when the only difficulty is that which
the hands have in the purely mechanical operation of keeping up.
She was destined later, of course, even during the achievement of this
first success, to learn the comparative rarity of those hours. Though,
as she looked back on it afterward, the whole of this first job seemed
to have been done with a kind of miraculous facility she couldn't
account for.
And all through those five hours, fast as her mind flew, utterly
absorbed as it seemed to be, she never once lost the consciousness of
the almost palpable presence of Rodney Aldrich there in the room with
her.


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