A painter's models put on--or put off--anything he likes." "And you mean--a--the same ?" "The same ?" Mrs.Monarch looked at her husband again.
"Oh she was just wondering," he explained, "if the costumes are in GENERAL use." I had to confess that they were, and I mentioned further that some of them--I had a lot of, genuine greasy last-century things--had served their time, a hundred years ago, on living, world-stained men and women; on figures not perhaps so far removed, in that vanished world, from THEIR type, the Monarchs', QUOI! of a breeched and bewigged age.

"We'll put, on anything that FITS," said the Major.
"Oh I arrange that--they fit in the pictures." "I'm afraid I should do better for the modern books.

I'd come as you like," said Mrs.Monarch.
"She has got a lot of clothes at home: they might do for contemporary life," her husband continued.
"Oh I can fancy scenes in which you'd be quite natural." And indeed I could see the slipshod re-arrangements of stale properties--the stories I tried to produce pictures for without the exasperation of reading them--whose sandy tracts the good lady might help to people.

But I had to return to the fact that--for this sort of work--the daily mechanical grind--I was already equipped: the people I was working with were fully adequate.
"We only thought we might be more like SOME characters," said Mrs.
Monarch mildly, getting up.
Her husband also rose; he stood looking at me with a dim wistfulness that was touching in so fine a man.

"Wouldn't it be rather a pull sometimes to have--a--to have-- ?" He hung fire; he wanted me to help him by phrasing what he meant.