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CHAPTER IV
Helen Wistar had spent three days in finding appropriate furniture for her studio. She looked with satisfaction at the sofa-bed, draped with unhemmed brown denim, the pine chiffonnier, the huge screen covered with burlap. Three willow-ware cups, with plates to match, some plated spoons and forks, and a tiny coffee-pot decorated a shelf on the wall. These were for her housekeeping.
"I'm so glad I'm here at last!" she said.
She took the "Fabian Essays on Socialism" and Ruskin's "Political Economy of Art" out of her trunk and put them on the floor.
Somebody knocked.
The girl greeted her visitor with an embarrassed self-possession, gazing with wide-opened brown eyes as she heard her name.
"Miss Bradford? Oh, do you know, I
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