"
The rose continued to nod in the futile way peculiar to flowers. There was no
earthly reason why Dick should not disport himself as he chose, except that he
was called by Providence, which was Maisie, to assist Maisie in her work. And
her work was the preparation of pictures that went sometimes to English
provincial exhibitions, as the notices in the scrap-book proved, and that were
invariably rejected by the Salon when Kami was plagued into allowing her to
send them up. Her work in the future, it seemed, would be the preparation of
pictures on exactly similar lines which would be rejected in exactly the same
way----The red-haired girl threshed distressfully across the sheets. "It's too
hot to sleep," she moaned; and the interruption jarred.
Exactly the same way. Then she would divide her years between the little studio
in England and Kami's big studio at Vitry-sur-Marne. No, she would go to
another master, who should force her into the success that was her right, if
patient toil and desperate endeavour gave one a right to anything. Dick had
told her that he had worked ten years to understand his craft. She had worked
ten years, and ten years were nothing. Dick had said that ten years were
nothing,--but that was in regard to herself only.
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