The evening hour was the bright spot of their existence, when the friends returned and books were read and talked about, and pictures discussed. Then the lonely three lifted themselves above their depressing surroundings, and revelled in a world open to all who possess the entrée to spheres of art, literature, and science.
Each of the trio contributed from their respective connections, small commissions that enabled Gwyneth to pay for her board. Pennie dispatched her to a garden-party to report for her paper, The Solar System. Millie managed to dispose of one or two of the studies with which Gwyneth occupied her spare hours; while thin delicate Gussey Gore was glad, when orders came in apace, to share her labour and slender reward with the new arrival.
Gwyneth discovered, however, that she had been incapacitated, by sojourn in the country under such different surroundings, for the hard life of the city. She pined for the freedom and pure air of the Valley. The close foul atmosphere of the narrow streets sickened her. The ruthless competition, in which all about her were involved, seemed like the scramble of wild beasts, half-starved, compared with the Arcadian simplicity she had discarded.
Poor Mrs. Strivens poured the tale of her woe into the girl's ear. She had been making a bare livelihood. Forthwith a large shop, with much wealth of paint and window-gilding, had opened across the way. Having some little means, the new-comers were able to undersell their rival, although Mrs. Strivens' margin of profits was already a vanishing factor, despite the fact that she purchased goods at the earliest market, and little Johnnie wheeled them home. Her husband, a printer, since his
