'I didn't think you'd want me any more,' she said, emboldened by his ignorance.
'I didn't as a matter of fact—but afterwards—At any rate I'm glad you've come. You know the stairs.'
So Bessie led him home to his own place—there was no one to hinder—and shut the door of the studio.
'What a mess!' was her first word. 'All these things haven't been looked after for months and months.'
'No, only weeks, Bess. You can't expect them to care.'
'I don't know what you expect them to do. They ought to know what you've paid them for. The dust's just awful. It's all over the easel.'
'I don't use it much now.'
'All over the pictures and the floor, and all over your coat. I'd like to speak to them housemaids.'
'Ring for tea, then.' Dick felt his way to the one chair he used by custom.
Bessie saw the action and, as far as in her lay, was touched. But there remained always a keen sense of new-found superiority, and it was in her voice when she spoke.
'How long have you been like this?' she said
