(Jolly! With that warped door and that chimney! Jolly! Amory almost laughed.) "Oh yes, very jolly," she said, tossing the adorable little head. But Dorothy caught the tone in which she said it. "Oh, I don't suppose it will be if you're determined it shan't, but don't I just wish _I_ had your talent and chances!" she replied cheerfully. "My hat, wouldn't I swap! Why, think of what all the critics--Hamilton Dix at any rate--are saying about you! You're going to have a show all on your own----" "H'm! If I ever do! Don't forget it's been put off three times already." "Well, but each time it couldn't be helped, and you're going ahead working all the time, and it'll be a tremendous leg-up for you when it does come. You ought to have _my_ job, my dear, in the middle of a catalogue rush, or when you've drawn the lingerie ladies as like fishes as ever they can be, and you get letters complaining that you're starting young men on the downward path--you'd come back to your pictures thankfully enough then, _I_ can tell you! The fact is you don't know what you do want.... Now I'm going to make a cup of tea and then I must fly back; I only came for that Doubleday thing. Have some?" She crossed to the sink, emptied the leaves from the teapot on to the heap that already choked the trap, and filled the kettle and set it on the fire. It always annoyed Amory when Dorothy told her that she didn't know really what she did want, for she always did know--at any rate for the time being. True, she had worked in various styles in the past; to an unintelligent watcher she might even have seemed vacillating and changeable: but after all, what better course could a student follow than that? Youth was the time for bold experiment. Settled convictions too early arrived at were things to be distrusted. And there were indications that she really had "found herself" at last. She had swept aside, quite a long time ago, her earlier efforts of the days of the McGrath; she had outgrown, too, the Meunier-like figures, all muscle and hammers and leather aprons, that had first attracted Mr. Hamilton Dix's attention; and all round that Cheyne Walk room were stacked the canvases of her latest and (she hoped) her finally settled phase--her Saturday night street-markets, her "character studies" worked up from sketches made in Whitechapel and Shoreditch, her scenes sketched in alleys and courts and during long waits in gallery-queues. Therefore she was a little annoyed with Dorothy now.... Dorothy was clearing the table and cutting bread-and-butter. Amory continued to look out of the window.