When she found that she was merely expected to sit still, she grew calmer, and criticised the appointments of the studio with freedom and some point.

She liked the warmth and the comfort and the release from fear of physical pain.

Dick made two or three studies of her head in monochrome, but the actual notion of the Melancolia would not arrive.
'What a mess you keep your things in!' said Bessie, some days later, when she felt herself thoroughly at home.

'I s'pose your clothes are just as bad.
Gentlemen never think what buttons and tape are made for.' 'I buy things to wear, and wear 'em till they go to pieces.

I don't know what Torpenhow does.' Bessie made diligent inquiry in the latter's room, and unearthed a bale of disreputable socks.