I pretty well have one of my figure studies fixed in my mind. I'll do it in charcoal and see how it looks, and if I like it, I'll do it in water color...s. I already have the color pallet figured out, and I'm pretty confident. I have some thoughts about the others, but I don't have the image I want yet, and it's harder to do without a live model." Don't ask your neighbor, honey. I promised we'd leave her alone." I won't, but I wish I could. She'd be ideal." I know. I had a hard time staying away.. It was musky, like Opium, but with an acrid undertone that smelled for all the world like someone had been lighting matches. When combined with the disgusting smell of Mr. Blackwell’s cigars which permeated the suite, I became so nauseous that I could barely pay attention to her. Not that it mattered, for Isabella’s tutoring was proving to be practically useless. There was little that she showed me that I didn’t know and what she did show me seemed specious, illogical and just plain wrong.. ‘Have we met before?’ she finally asked, in an unsteady voice. ‘Are you . . . Geoffrey?’ ‘Yes’ He gently turned her shoulders until she faced him. ‘You recognize me,’ he said, softly. ‘Yes’ she said, almost breathlessly. ‘But . . . it’s not possible.’ ‘Many things are possible,’ he whispered, pulling her closer. Karen’s mind was racing. This was the man who had occupied her most intimate and erotic dreams for many years. He was the man who knew exactly how to love her. He knew where and how. Even in the weak light of the fire he could see her blush."I'm really sorry," he said."You look a sight," she muttered. "I suppose you bathed in your clothes." No," he said, confused. "I just didn't have anything else to put on." Your planning skills leave somewhat to be desired," she said darkly. "Unless you planned on spying on me." How was I supposed to know you'd be there?" he asked."Why didn't you come straight to the wagon?" she shot back."Because I stank!" he barked. "I was trying to.