Buck was furious. The original, genuine Pilgrim of Love had reason enough to know what happened in studios. Young women of high birth (in Louie's case it would probably be a young man) began to take their lunches there, and one day burst into jealous unhappy tears, and after that the Pilgrimage began. But Louie only laughed at him. She reminded him that she had reason to regard herself as a pilgrim too. At that Buck looked hard at her. "Little woman," he said slowly, "d'you mean--that there is somebody?" Louie laughed again, but more consciously. "Once or twice lately," Buck continued, still looking hard at her, "I've wondered whether there might be----" "How can there be, daddy?" "Well, the other isn't befitting," said Buck, shaking his head and returning to the original point. "My daddy did it." "Ah, men's different. For high ladies it--it isn't befitting." "I'm not a young girl, daddy." "No." Buck sighed. If he had only known her when she was a young girl! But the whims of the Scarisbricks were still the Scarisbricks' whims, and as such above his judgment. "But I want to see this Mr. Izzard," he added grimly. "That you certainly sha'n't," Louie replied promptly. "Fancy your taking me round everywhere I go!" "Everywhere?" Buck repeated, alarmed anew. "Of course. If it's a business it's a business. Why, Mr. Izzard alone would be--dreadful! It's no good, daddy; you can't change my mind." He saw that he could not, but he still tried. It only delayed a little her carrying of her point. In the end--well, she was her mother's daughter. There was no more to be said. So she began to make the round of the Chelsea studios, and presently moved, with Céleste and the boy, to more comfortable quarters in Lavender Hill, Clapham Junction. This took her farther from her work in Chelsea, but brought her nearer to the Lambeth and Westminster Schools of Art, where also she obtained sittings, sometimes during the day, sometimes in the evenings also. She sat for Billy when Billy could afford to pay her. "No, no--no tick, Billy," she told him once; "I don't do this for amusement." Of the boy Billy knew nothing.... Buck, still strongly averse from the whole proceeding, at first refused to hear her gossip of the day's work; but, as his silence did not alter matters, little by little he began to come round. Soon they exchanged experiences quite freely. He told her what Sopley had said about his deltoid, Henson about his thigh. "You vain old daddy!" she said, stroking his cheek, "I believe for two pins you'd do it again!" She took a pleasure in fondly shocking him in the same sort. Sometimes he mused long. You will admit that it was something to muse over. And so--well, so Louie, throwing acquirements aside with her clothes, became, by virtue of her peculiar commodity, economically emancipated. As female models, women are eminently better than men.