He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. ‘I have first some affairs to finish. “Last time I saw you,” he reminded her, “you spoke, did you not, of obtaining some employment in London. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. “You might have given me a chance, anyway. He then unfolded his choice and held it before her face. I overlooked the mechanical imperfections of your work, the utter lack of finish, the crudeness of your drawing. He is the kind of man who would much prefer a little dust in his eyes.
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