She lay and nibbled at a sprig of dwarf rhododendron. He was accompanied by a young man of about seven-and-twenty, who carried his easel, set it in its place, laid the canvass upon it, opened the paint box, took out the brushes and palette, and, in short, paid him the most assiduous attention. She would stare if she knew the full sum of Melusine’s activities. She had heard of women journalists, women writers, and so forth; but she was not even admitted to the presence of the editors she demanded to see, and by no means sure that if she had been she could have done any work they might have given her. She was to have fifteen pounds, and no more. She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. The visitors, when they entered, looked thoroughly intimidated and Everett concealed a grim smile. " "I don't care for that," replied Jack.
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