"We came to London for the glorious privilege of being independent," chanted Jasmine, in a majestic voice. "Daisy, I'm going to be it. I'm going to fling my shackles to the winds. I'm going to soar." "It sounds lovely," said Daisy. "You always were a poet, Jasmine, and I suppose poets do talk like that; but how are you going to be independent, Jasmine?" "I'm going to earn money, little woman. Miss Egerton has kept me in shackles. I've worn them patiently, but now I burst the bonds. Daisy, I have formed a little theory. I believe girls are sent into the world with a strong bias in a particular direction. You see, it always did seem to be meant that dear Primrose was to be a companion, or secretary, of some sort; for Mrs. Ellsworthy wanted her to be Mr. Ellsworthy's secretary, and to write his letters for him. She would not be that, even though it was her bent, and now she's got to accept something far worse; for it really must be dreadful to be 'continual reader' to poor old Mrs. Mortlock. Now, Daisy, what I say is this--there's no use in wasting time or money looking after things which don't suit us. Primrose was meant to be a secretary or continual reader, and so she has to be one; and I have always been meant to belong to the rather higher order of novelist or poet, and there's no use in my being damped any longer by Miss Egerton. I don't mean to be conceited, but I know that I have got the flutterings of a poet's wings in my soul, and soar I must." Jasmine looked very pretty while she was speaking, and little Daisy admired her high-flown words, and fully believed in her genius. "Do soar, Jasmine, darling," she said; "I have not a notion how you are to do it, but do begin at once. It will make these rooms more than ever like a Palace Beautiful if you take to soaring in them." "I've nearly finished my novel," said Jasmine; "and I've also written a poem. It is called the 'Flight of the Beautiful,' and is in seven parts. Each part would take up two or three pages of a magazine. To-morrow, Daisy dear, I am going to take my novel and poem into the market. I shall offer them to the highest bidders. I won't send them by post, for I always notice in books that, when gifted authors send their contributions by post, they are declined with thanks, because they aren't read. I am going to take my own manuscripts to the publishers, Daisy, and I shall propose to them to read aloud a few extracts." "You can't be at all shy if you do that, Jasmine," said Daisy, looking in a rather awe-struck way at her sister.