Take a glass of sherry, sir, to cheer ye up.' 'No, I thank you, ma'am,' replied the artist.

'It is very good in you, but I scarcely feel in sufficient spirits for sherry.

Just give Mr Finsbury this note, and ask him to look round--to the door in the lane, you will please tell him; I shall be in the studio all evening.' And he turned again into the street and walked slowly homeward.

A hairdresser's window caught his attention, and he stared long and earnestly at the proud, high--born, waxen lady in evening dress, who circulated in the centre of the show.

The artist woke in him, in spite of his troubles.
'It is all very well to run down the men who make these things,' he cried, 'but there's a something--there's a haughty, indefinable something about that figure.