At first he did not comprehend that poverty barred the way to her; he
urged her to cultivate her talent, bestowed advice concerning the Art
League, boarding houses, studios, ways, means, and ends, until she
felt obliged to tell him how far beyond her means such magic
splendours lay.
He remained silent, sorry for her, thinking also that the chances were
against her having any particular talent, consoling a heart that was
unusually sympathetic and tender with the conclusion that this girl
would be happier here in Brookhollow than scratching around the
purlieus of New York to make both ends meet.
"It's a tough deal," he remarked abruptly. "--I mean this art stuff.
You work like the dickens and kick your heels in ante-rooms. If they
take your stuff they send you back to alter it or redraw it. I don't
know how anybody makes a living at it--in the beginning."
"Don't you?"
"I? No." He reddened; but she could not notice it in the moonlight.
"No," he repeated; "I have an allowance from my father. I'm new at it
yet."
"Couldn't a man--a girl--support herself by drawing pictures for
magazines?" she inquired tremulously.
"Oh, well, of course there are some who have arrived--and they manage
to get on. Some even make wads, you know."
"W-wads?" she repeated, mystified.
"I mean a lot of money. There's that girl on the Star, Jean
Throssel, who makes all kinds of wealth, they say, out of her spidery,
filmy girls in ringlets and cheesecloth dinner gowns."
"Oh!"
"Yes, Jean Throssel, and that Waythorne girl, Belinda Waythorne, you
know--does all that stuff for The Looking Glass--futurist graft, no
mouths on her people--she makes hers, I understand."
It was rather difficult for Rue to follow him amid the vernacular
mazes.
"Then, of course," he continued, "men like Alexander Fairless and
Philip Lightwood who imitates him, make fortunes out of their drawing.
I could name a dozen, perhaps. But the rest--hard sledding, Miss
Carew!"
"Is it very hard?"
"Well, I don't know what on earth I'd do if dad didn't back me as his
fancy."
"A father ought to, if he can afford it."
"Oh, I'll pay my way some day. It's in me. I feel it; I know it. I'll
make plenty of money," he assured her confidently.
"I'm sure you will."
"Thank you," he smiled. "My friends tell me I've got it in me. I have
one friend in particular--the Princess Mistchenka--who has all kinds
of confidence in my future. When I'm blue she bolsters me up. She's
quite wonderful. I owe her a lot for asking me to her Sunday nights
and for giving me her friendship."