They groped their way down the dark stairs, and he went out with her, feeling that he could not face his family, from whom he knew now that his face was turned. In the street a mood of freedom and adventure came over him, and for this mood she was a fitting mate. He took her on the top of a bus to the West End, among the promenading crowds, and she drank it all in with a kind of exaltation, her big eyes glowing, her body trembling with excitement. Into one café after another he led her, completely absorbed as he was in her purpose, and at last, when they mounted the eastward bus, she leaned her head on his shoulder, and he could hear her murmuring to herself: "London . . . London . . . London." He too was thrilled as he had never been before by London. He had never so strongly realized it before. The great city had thrilled him with its beauty and had stirred him with its business, but never before had its spirit crept into his blood to send it whirling and singing through his veins. He hardly slept at all that night, and the next morning it was a long time before he could begin to work, which then seemed far removed from the effort and almost anguish it used to cost him. The still-life with which he had been wrestling became quite easy to do, and very soothing was the handling of brushes and paint. Every touch was like a caress upon his aching soul. So began a period of real happiness. The pieces he painted with such soothing ease were generally admired and readily bought. The dealer to whom he took them was also a colourman and gave him apparently unlimited credit; and he laid in an immense stock of colours and amused himself with experiments. It seemed that his career was to be successful without a struggle. His patrons were delighted to find him so soon making money, and the Birnbaums and the Fleischmanns invited him down into the country, but as he found that they put him up in a servant's bedroom or a gardener's cottage he refused to go more than once, or to any more of their kind who were not prepared to forget his poverty. He would rather stay in London with Hetty, whom he had begun to regard as a mascot. With her coming everything had changed. She had made everything easy and happy and delightful. He had no love for her, but he could not help feeling grateful. She had turned work into a pleasure, pleasure into a riot of ecstasy.