"As much as usual. Why doesn't she take to me, I wonder? She won't ask me to stay with her, and I hear that she has even asked you."
Jean laughed. There was something very frank about Meta with all her society airs.
"Perhaps she knows that it isn't her society that you covet."
"George is in town," said Meta, with a little answering laugh. "He is as devoted as ever, but this is in confidence. There is no open engagement, remember. We must wait. He has so little money, poor fellow!"
Then, she hurriedly bid Jean goodbye.
"I'll come and see you one day, but I must rush away now. I have your address."
But she never came, and Jean was not surprised.
In after years, Jean often looked back to this winter as the darkest time in her life. Her portrait of the alderman's wife was finished, but not to that lady's satisfaction. Her full-blown face was stamped with her plebeian origin, and the masses of jewellery and lace she persisted in wearing did not add to her beauty. She insisted that Jean should try to show it in the Academy, and when it was refused, she was so angry that she refused to pay for it.
"I do not consider it a likeness. I would never have dreamt of paying so much for a picture that wasn't going to be shown. I would never have given you the order, only I thought your pictures would be accepted for the Academy. You have had one in it. If mine was worth anything, it would be there. My husband says you have made me a fright. Unless you can alter it, I won't pay you for it!"
Poor Jean happened to be at a very low ebb at this juncture in her money affairs. And she found it necessary to change her lodgings and take one room in a much cheaper neighbourhood, where she waited upon herself, and could economise in many little ways. The change was not beneficial to her health, but she was thankful to be able to pay her way.