"Nell, you can't see to paint!" exclaimed Molly.
"I know I can't."
"Then what are you painting for?"
Nell squeezed out cobalt blue recklessly.
"My dear child, if we're to live in a place where it's always foggy, I've got to learn to paint in a thick yellow atmosphere, with the gas alight one minute and out the next. D'you think I'm not going to practise for the next hundred years? Sheila Pat, don't go near K.K.! You'll rouse her! Oh, why is she black? Do go on with your copy."
"I don't wish ever to write like my copy," said the Atom, stiffening her straight little back, "so what's the use of doin' it now?"
"Well, you've got to!" said Nell.
Sheila Pat arose.
"Sheila Pat, where are you going?"
"To fetch my snowy-breasted Pearl. I'm afraid he'll be breakin' his heart, all alone so long."