"Shan't you want me to mix your colours, Raymond?"
"No; go. I should rather you went."
She put on her bonnet, and then stood for one moment looking at his work. "I wish you would come with me; it would do you good, and rest you."
Raymond gave a wearying sigh. "No rest for me yet, Madge. I must toil on until this is done. I can't rest when I go to bed. I am thinking all night when will the morning come, that I may be at work again. No, no; there is no rest until this is sold. Do you know that in a day or two we shall be penniless and starving?"
Madge looked up at him with a smile. "No, Raymond, we shan't be left to starve; don't fear."
Raymond looked doubtful, and went on with his work, and Madge went out.
She felt very lonely and sad as she wandered through the crowded, busy streets, and gazed into the faces of the passers-by, all were so completely wrapped up in their own concerns. None knew her history; none would care to know it. What did it matter to any one of that moving throng if she and Raymond died?
Almost unconsciously she bent her steps in the direction of the colour-shop. One hurried glance she cast at the window, and then turned away with a sickening heart.
Raymond's picture was still there.
She went home, and ascended the long flight of stairs with a slow, hesitating step. For a moment she paused at the door of their own room; she heard a groan within, and hastily went in. Her first glance was directed to the easel in the window; but Raymond was not there. Another look discovered him lying on the floor with his head pressed against the ground.