At last she put them on and drew up the blind.

The sunlight had passed off the pear-tree; its bloom was now white, and almost as still as snow.

The little model put another sweet into her mouth, and producing from her pocket an ancient leather purse, counted out her money.

Evidently discovering that it was no more than she expected, she sighed, and rummaged out of a top drawer an old illustrated magazine.
She sat down on the bed, and, turning the leaves rapidly till she reached a certain page, rested the paper in her lap.

Her eyes were fixed on a photograph in the left-hand corner-one of those effigies of writers that appear occasionally in the public press.