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“A studio,” said Miss Mason promptly. This woman was making it extraordinarily easy for her to tell her fairy tale. “Have wanted one ever since I was seventeen, and I think almost before that. Perhaps because my father was an artist.”

“And now you’ll take one?”

“Have come up to look for one,” said Miss Mason. “Am going to look at pictures too. There’s the National Gallery, the Tate Gallery, and the Academy. Used to read about them. Later I shall go abroad. Thought I’d better get used to going about in England first. Have read a lot about pictures. Used to take in a magazine called ‘The Studio.’ Saw it advertised once and sent for it. Miss Stanhope used to make me a small allowance. She was kind really, though didn’t always understand.”

“The kindest people don’t always understand,” said the younger woman quickly. “Are you going to take an unfurnished studio? and will you have some of the furniture sent up from your old home?”

There is a curious luxury in speaking of the details of a cherished scheme, and especially to one who has never before found a sympathetic audience. This the woman knew when she put the question.